


Passage of Madness

by FellowLesbian



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dany is mad, Dany's too good for him, F/F, I feel like mad sansa would be pretty awesome too, Jon doesn't deserve Rhaegal, Madness, R Plus L Does Not Equal J, Romantic Soulmates, Sansa and Dany shouldn't hate each other, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, because fuck you Bran you shouldn't be king, mad queens, nor dany, sansa rides viserion because I want her to, they'd be perfect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-03-26 16:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19009114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FellowLesbian/pseuds/FellowLesbian
Summary: Sansa felt her body shudder pleasantly as she looked at the other girl. “You’re my soulmate,” Daenerys breathed. “You have to be. No one else could tame one of my dragons.”“And you must be mine. There is no other Targaryen for me to match with,” Sansa answered.Daenerys frowned a bit at that. “Two-headed dragon?”“Indeed.”Daenerys smiled, her face glowing golden from the dragonfire.





	1. Two Heads

Two Heads 

 

Sansa grew up on stories of princesses and dragons, maidens and knights, princes rescuing the girl with the matching soulmark. She grew up on stories about people finding their soulmate and living happily ever after. She would imagine herself as one of those girls, being saved by her soulmate swooping in when she needed him most and carrying her off to his castle to wed him. It was an ideal world.

But ideal was only a figment of the imagination. Nothing was ever ideal. Sansa learned that when she met Joffrey.

Well, not immediately. At first, she adored him. He was her knight in shining armour, saving her from an eternity in Winterfell. She prayed to the gods that, when her soulmark came with her flowering, their marks would match. Wait until a bit after, though, and she begins to learn that Joffrey is not at all what he seems to be. Malicious and sadistic, he was the epitome of a nightmare.

When Sansa awoke to find her sheets bloody from her first bleed, she almost sobbed. Now she would have to marry Joffrey and could bear him children, but more she feared what her soulmark would reveal. She couldn’t see it initially and didn’t have the time to bother searching for it and tried to cover up the evidence fast as she could, with the help of Tyrion’s whore, Shae. Unluckily for them, Sandor Clegane caught them in the act.

Cersei didn’t help matters at all. Yes, she used to delight in the prospect of bearing children but now, knowing Joffrey, she dreaded it. Cersei said it was the greatest honour but Sansa didn’t think so. Anything that benefited Joffrey was punishment, and Cersei confirmed that. “Joffrey will show you no such devotion.” Proof even his mother knew that he would be a terrible husband. And no matter what Cersei said, if her children turned out to be anything like their father it would be impossible to ever love them. A monster cannot be loved.

It was later that night that she found her soulmark. It sat on the curve of her hip, pitch black against the pale skin the eternally cold North had granted her with. It was indistinguishable. The mark of the Targaryens, a three-headed dragon, but instead of being three heads there were only two. The only colour present was in the eyes. One of the heads had eyes the same icy blue as Sansa and the other had the amethyst purple of a Targaryen. There was no mistaking that her soulmate must be a Targaryen. But how? She had been told they died off years ago.

 

Never Tell 

 

She approached Shae about it, her being the only person in Kings Landing she could trust. She called for her quietly, nervous about the reaction. “Shae?”

Shae quietly opened the door to her chambers. “Yes, Sansa?”

“I was told the Targaryens were gone.”

“They are,” Shae said. “Robert killed the last of them after he took over.”

“Are you sure?” That couldn’t be true unless her soulmate was one of the Targaryens that died years ago. Everyone had a soulmate.

“Robert would not have dared leave a Targaryen alive, babe or not. Why do you ask?” Shae said, sitting down on the bed.

“Well,” Sansa hesitated a moment before shifting and pulling her dress up to show her mark. Shae’s eyes widened as she reached down to trace the two-headed sigil. Her finger rested on the amethyst eyes of the first dragon.

“Sansa, you cannot show this to anyone,” Shae said. “If anyone knows of this they will put you to the blade no matter what you do. Promise me!”

“I won’t, I swear,” Sansa said, adjusting to pull her dress back down. Shae nodded and kissed her forehead before leaving the room. Sansa fell asleep that night thinking about just how long she would live.

 

Treason 

 

It wasn’t long until she finally released the secret. The Tyrells had arrived days ago and Sansa had gotten along nicely with Margaery and was invited to meet with her and her grandmother. Sansa couldn’t refuse.

Olenna lived up to her name. The Queen of Thorns spoke what she wanted when she wanted, no matter the audience. She asked of Joffrey and while Sansa stuttered to praise him Olenna interfered. “Now, now, child, surely that can’t be true. Weren’t you planning on being his wife before my granddaughter?”

“That was the plan, yes.” Sansa wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad about that. At least if she did marry him she’d have some power, being queen. Then again, if she were queen he would have to bed her, so perhaps it was for the better.

“How did you feel about someone else becoming queen? Did it bother you?”  
“I can’t say it did.”

“Why not? Is it because he isn’t your soulmate? Are you one of those girls?”

Sansa hesitated. “I used to be. Not anymore.”

“What changed?”

“I got my soulmark.”

“Oh?” Olenna leaned closer. “And what soulmark would make you not believe in them?”

“An impossible one.”

“No such thing! I would know, my soulmark matched the one promised to my sister. Didn’t stop me from marrying him, now, did it?”

“At least your soulmark wasn’t treason against the King.”

“Treason?” Olenna leaned back in her seat. “What sort of marking could possibly be treason?”  
“When your mark matches someone who could be a threat to the throne.”

“Does that mean you’ve met your soulmate?” Margaery asked.

“No, but it’s clear enough. At least, their ancestry is.”

“Oh, is it a Baratheon? Perhaps a Stark?” Olenna looked excited at the prospect of treason. “Or maybe it’s one of those Targaryen brats from across the sea? Now wouldn’t that be something?”

Sansa stayed silent. Olenna raised an eyebrow. “I got it, didn’t I? Go on, which is it?”

“Why don’t you explain the mark to us?” Margaery said. “We’ll never tell.”

“It-It’s a dragon,” Sansa stuttered. “A two-headed dragon.”

“So it is a Targaryen brat. How thrilling!” Olenna glanced over Sansa’s shoulder. “Oh, you’d better go. My grandson is coming back, likely with news. Keep that hidden, girl, and don’t speak of it anywhere else. There is always someone watching.”

 

Undead 

 

The next revelation is with her newfound husband, Tyrion Lannister. They got along nicely as friends, never as lovers, and Tyrion always enjoyed debating over his own soulmark. He had a bottle strung with grapes and inside it was a rolled up scroll. Neither had any idea what it could mean, it didn’t relate to any of the houses, all they did know was that the grapes were most definitely associated with Tyrion’s love for wine.

“What’s your mark, then?” Tyrion asked her one day. “Know who it is?”

“I know the house,” Sansa said vaguely. “Not the person.”

“Oh, come tell me which house. I’m sure I can figure it out for you.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

Tyrion frowned. “Is it a house that I don’t like? Perhaps one that your father doesn’t like?”

“It’s a house that nobody likes.” Except maybe herself. If her soulmate was a Targaryen, they couldn’t all be bad. She could never love a monster.

“Nobody? Every house has allies.”

“This house gained allies only through fear.”

“Gained? Is the house gone?” Sansa paled. There was only one house that had gone extinct in recent years. Tyrion raised an eyebrow at her whitening face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You know then.”

“Well, yes. The only house I can think of that fits every criteria would be the three-headed dragon.” Sansa sighed, nodding yes. “You know, the Targaryens aren’t all dead.”

Sansa perked up. “They aren’t?”

“No. There is one Targaryen, across the Narrow Sea in Essos. She is conquering the cities in Slaver’s Bay, first Astapor and just recently Yunkai. She’s known as the ‘Breaker of Chains’ for freeing the slaves.” Tyrion paused. “Not only this, but she also commands dragons.”

“Dragons!” Sansa gasped. “The dragons are gone!”

“So they were, but it is rumoured that Daenerys hatched three dragon eggs presumed to be stone. Our spies in Essos have confirmed that she does indeed own dragons.” Tyrion gripped her wrist tightly. “Now, you must not speak of this to anyone. If word is to get out that there is a Targaryen conquering Essos, with dragons nonetheless, there would be panic. Joffrey would likely set out to have her killed.”

“You haven’t told the King yet?”

“No. He would not handle it well.” They walked in silence for a moment. “If you don’t mind, could you describe your mark? What makes you so sure it’s Targaryen?”

“Well, it’s the Targaryen symbol,” Sansa said. “The only difference is that instead of three head there are two, one with the Targaryen purple eyes and the other with eyes that match mine.”

“Is it hidden well?”  
“Yes.” Sansa patted the hip that her mark rested on. “As long as I stay clothed.”

“Good, good. How many people know of your mark?”

“Other than us? Three.”

“Do you trust them all?”

Sansa hesitated. Did she really trust anyone? “I guess so.”

Tyrion sighed. “Better than nothing.”

 

Abuse 

 

When Joffrey died, Sansa was ecstatic. Yes, it was a horrible sight to see but her tormentor was _dead._ The person who killed her father and called it mercy, dead. The person who killed her dire wolf, dead. The person who broke her family, dead. She felt relieved. And soon after, she fled the city itself. Even better.

Living at the Vale wasn’t all that hard, she just had to remember that she was not Sansa Stark, she was the bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish. Robin Arryn was a bit of a cunt, but that couldn’t be avoided. He wasn’t nearly as bad as Joffrey, and that was enough.

Petyr pushed for her to reveal her soulmark to him, bringing it up in casual conversation or whenever they spoke alone in Sansa’s chambers. She eventually stopped refusing and made one up off the top of her head, saying it was a wolf with a rose. It would make sense, considering she had adored Loras and Margaery was one of her best friends, possibly a bit more than that. Petyr didn’t question it, though he did look at her weirdly whenever she said that. It felt almost as if he knew it was a lie. Actually, considering who this was, he probably did.

Over time, she began to grow more fond of him, bit by bit. She knew he wasn’t all that trustworthy, her head told her that, but he was always so sweet with her and she almost felt as if he was safe. Almost. Of course, he ruined that image when he sold her off to Ramsay Bolton.

Ramsay was terrible. He acted all sweet, giving her gentle kisses and speaking of how lovely she was but when he forced himself upon her that night with Theon tucked in the corner, she saw his true side. The terrible, sadistic side of him that wasn’t unlike Joffrey, but it was different in its own way. This time she was married to her tormentor, leaving him free to do all he pleased to do without the same precautions Joffrey took. What he did to Theon was just as cruel, turning him into a mindless minion that had no free will. He treated Ramsay like a god, worshipping him and doing everything he commanded.

 

Golden 

 

It first showed up about a month after her marriage to Ramsay. She was standing atop one of the many towers of Winterfell, leaning against the side and staring out longingly into the snow-coated lands, daydreaming about what it all would be like if she just hadn’t been such a stupid little girl. All was silent; until that silence was broken by a loud huff and a rumbling sort of purr.

Sansa leaned over the edge, looking down at the snow. The side of the castle that she was on had long shadows going off into the snow, masking anything standing directly beside the stones. She watched for a moment, waiting for anything else. She heard the snow crunch, something sliding through the white drifts in the shadows. She squinted, trying to see into the darkness. A flicker of light appeared, disappearing immediately after.

She was so focused on the inside of the shadows that she didn’t notice large claws hooking onto the stone bricks of the side of the castle. When a large, golden body pulled itself up after it, she saw the creature out of the corner of her eye. It had a great golden head with a bulky, muscular body attached. Its neck was long and flexible with four sets of fins extending out of it. The sides of its head were cluttered with stone-like horns all jutting out, a few much larger than others. The bottom half of its body was still hidden in shadow but she could see that it was holding onto the wall not with its feet but with claws that attached to part of its wings.

Sansa watched in terrified amazement as it pulled itself from the shadows, climbing up the side of the wall. At one point it lost its grip and yelped as it slipped, using its wings to hover in the air. The wings were huge, a wingspan of at least fifteen metres. It turned its head up toward her, looking at her for a moment before it huffed, gripping the wall once more and continuing up.

When it was maybe ten metres from the top Sansa finally lost her courage and scrambled back, dropping onto the floor on the far end of the tower. The dragon heaved itself up over the edge, crouching low to the ground as it examined her, snaking its head toward her as it crept closer. She was frozen in fear, watching as it decreased the distance between them. Seven metres. Five. Two. One. Zero.

Its head was inches from hers, nostrils flaring as it inhaled her scent. Its muzzle dropped lower, curving around to prod at the right side of her body. She watched as it sniffed at her hip, right over her mark. It pressed its snout directly into the tattoo.

Sansa felt a shock run through her body. She convulsed, her limbs jerking as her head spun in and out of darkness. The dragon lay beside her, shuddering, tail flailing wildly. It calmed down after a minute, leaving her breathless. She watched the steam rise from her breath as her heart slowed down.

The dragon groaned, nudging closer and resting its head on her lap. Just like that, all her fear was gone. She knew the dragon was no threat to her, it would never dare to hurt her, and she would never dare hurt it. She lay a hand on its head, sighing in sync with him. Him. She seemed to automatically know its gender as well.

Her mind reeled back to her conversation with Tyrion, lifetimes ago. He had said something about her Targaryen having dragons. The stories always said that Targaryens and their dragons were connected. Perhaps this was one of her dragons? Did he know she was his mother’s destined lover?

There wasn’t any way she could confirm or deny it. Not like the dragon could speak. She would just have to wait to meet her queen to see if this truly was one of her children.


	2. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys had never known true freedom.

Freedom

 

Daenerys had never known true freedom. In her childhood, her brother and Ser William Darry took care of her, teaching her and always making sure she knew to never leave without one of them, that the world was a dangerous place for a ‘weak little cunt such as her,’ to quote her brother. Illyrio was no different. Then her brother sold her to a Khal, leaving her under his dominance. 

Her flowering was during her time with the Dothraki. She had been so very excited, wanting to see her soulmark for the first time. She eventually found it, though she had to strain her neck to see it. It was on her right shoulder blade, a Targaryen symbol with two heads instead of three and two different coloured eyes - amethyst and ice blue.

Unless her soulmate was her own brother she had no idea what to think of this. She asked Viserys about his soulmark and he barked at her, snarling vile insults like he always did. She backed away, never asking him again.

Her time with the Dothraki gave her some power. She learned to rule the Dothraki people, commanding them when need be. Viserys despised her for it but he couldn’t stop it, no matter what she did. She was finally becoming free, and she was not going to let Viserys ruin that for her.

When he tried to steal her dragon eggs, her precious dragon eggs, she was furious. She wanted to teach him a lesson and her Khal Drogo did it for her, beating him half to death and making sure the healers had him repaired in the most painful way possible. 

Her Khal’s death was incredibly painful, even more so when the death of her son followed. Viserys tried to take charge of the Dothraki himself but they rallied to Daenerys instead, electing her to lead until they found a suitable Khal to replace Drogo. It did benefit her, though, when she made the decision to walk into the burning pyre with her dragon eggs. Jorah tried to stop her and Viserys mocked her for being a fool but she ignored them both. If she truly was a dragon, she would not burn.

When she made the decision to carry her eggs inside with her, Viserys exploded on her, yelling about how she was destroying the three things that could bring them a fortune. She ignored him, instead taking her first step into the flames.

When she emerged with her three children, that was when the Dothraki truly realised how powerful she was. Viserys was gone, likely thinking she was dead and trying to win over the Dothraki. She didn’t care. She had her children, and Viserys would not take them from her.

Jorah took care of her, getting her clothes and finding meat for her newly hatched dragons. Viserys didn’t pop up anywhere during the time so he likely either hadn’t heard or didn’t care that she had survived. The dragons he would want for himself, though, and she knew she had to get them away from him.

She turned south, first hitting Qarth and then turning to Slaver’s Bay. Astapor went down first, then Yunkai and lastly Meereen. She gained the Unsullied and the Second Sons, also rallying the slaves onto her side after freeing them. Her dragons grew bigger every day, becoming more powerful yet also more destructive and reckless. Viserion especially grew restless. Whenever he saw her his eyes went wild and he would often poke and prod at the soulmark on her shoulder, sometimes spitting flames uncontrollably when it was at its worst. Eventually, it got to the point where she had to lock them up. Rhaegal was easy to round up, Viserion being a bit harder but not impossible. Drogon resisted but got him in the end.

When he saw where they were going, Viserion went mad. He shrieked, flames spurting from his mouth as he spun on her, snarling. Daenerys tried to calm him but he only got more agitated. He shoved his muzzle against her shoulder, inhaling the scent of her soulmark before letting out one final shriek and busting out, taking off into the sky and heading west. He didn’t return.

Two years later and she once again faced the slavers. They were attacking Meereen and agreed to meet her beside the pyramid, three masters in total. None of them looked very happy with her.

“Shall we begin discussing terms of surrender?” One master said bluntly.   
“We shall,” Daenerys agreed.

“Very well,” the master said. “The terms are simple. You and your foreign friends will abandon the Great Pyramid and the city of Meereen. The Unsullied you stole from Kraznys mo Nakloz will remain to be sold again to the highest bidder. The translator you stole from Kraznys mo Nakloz will remain to be sold again to the highest bidder. The dragons beneath the Great Pyramid will be slaughtered.”

“I don’t believe we communicated clearly. We are here to discuss your surrender, not mine,” Daenerys corrected.

“Oh, really? I have your city under siege. You know, I knew your brother before he died. He came to us wanting revenge against you, but his recklessness killed him off soon enough. He described you as pitiful and compliant. What changed?”

“Because I am not the meek girl he remembered. I conquered Slaver’s Bay. I have a hundred thousand men at my back. Do you really think that you can beat me?” 

“Perhaps, but you have no fleet. All your troops are on land.” The slave master gave her a proud look. “Your reign is over.”

Daenerys looked over behind the masters. “My reign has just begun.”

The master opened his mouth to protest but stopped as a low rumble was heard. The master’s troops readied their weapons, looking around. A loud growl reverberated off the cliffs and suddenly a giant golden dragon swept over their heads, circling around the pyramid. Viserion set himself down on top of the pyramid, letting out a loud roar. Calling his brethren. He stayed atop the pyramid, smoke curling out of the corners of his mouth. Two roars answered him as Drogon lifted from the city below, free of his shackles with Rhaegal behind him. 

The masters gaped at the three dragons, looking to her and back to them. “But-how-” he stuttered. Daenerys ignored him, calling to Drogon. He responded, setting down beside her and allowing her to climb onto his back. He shuddered, running forward and leaping off the cliff with Rhaegal and Viserion following. With the combined efforts of three dragons, the fleet was burned to ashes. When she returned the last remaining slave master was gone, having fled the city.

With that, she decided it was time to leave Essos and sail for Westeros. The Greyjoys pledged fealty to her, providing her with the fleet needed to transport her troops. Drogon and Rhaegal flew overhead with Viserion going ahead, disappearing into the distance with no sign of returning to them. Daenerys was interested to learn where he was going.

 

Afraid

 

Sansa was nervous. Her dragon had been gone for a month, disappearing without a trace. Perhaps it was for the better, considering he was so large that he couldn’t even land near her anymore and had to stay in the sky if he wanted to see her, but she missed him. She missed seeing his large golden bulk in the air each afternoon, missed watching the archers go crazy trying to shoot him but never hitting their mark. It was sad.

She’d never given him a name. She knew he could only be Daenerys’s dragon and he must have a name from her, she just didn’t know what. Sansa wanted to know what his true name was before she called him anything permanent.

When he returned to her, he didn’t even try to hide his presence. He swooped down from the clouds, landing just outside the castle and announcing himself with a loud roar. Sansa scrambled onto the wall, looking down at her dragon standing in the snow. Arrows flew toward him but only bounced off his armoured scales, him barely taking notice. When he saw her he crooned, his entire body shuddering with delight. She smiled as he practically bounced in happiness, completely disregarding the many soldiers attempting to pierce his scales.

She heard someone coming up behind her and glanced to the side to see Ramsay beside her. “Are you not afraid?” He breathed in her ear. “Does this beast not scare you?”

Sansa shivered uncomfortably. “You speak as if it doesn’t scare you. Tell me, is the beast yours?” She knew it wasn’t, it was  _ her  _ dragon, but she would never tell him that.

Ramsay laughed. “Not at all, my lady. That is a dragon. There is only one person in the world who we know to have dragons.” He smirked. “Daenerys Targaryen.”

“The one across the sea, yes,” Sansa said. “But why would one of her dragons be here?”

“She must have sent it. There is no other explanation. Now why she sent it is the question. Perhaps she wants to parlay?”

“She would have to send someone with the dragon if she wanted a parlay.”

Ramsay grinned. “Aren’t you smart? Tell me, Sansa, what is stopping that dragon from burning down the entire keep right now?”

“How could I know? I don’t have much knowledge of dragons.” Lie. She’d spent hours upon hours in the library researching dragons after she first met hers. Again, he didn’t need to know that.

“It’s mother, that’s what. The dragon queen does not want Winterfell to burn. Perhaps the dragon is here as a warning, maybe as a sign of peace. We’ll just have to wait and see.” Ramsay moved to shout commands down to his troops and Sansa took that change to urge her dragon to leave. He whimpered sadly, backing away and raising himself onto his hind legs, leaping up into the air and rising over the castle. Sansa watched him go with sadness in her heart. She hated to send him away, but he wouldn’t be safe otherwise. 

 

Fire Hair

 

Daenerys landed in Dragonstone about a month later, Drogon and Rhaegal flying ahead to inspect the castle. It was grand, with dragon carvings everywhere you looked and huge structures, many fortified as to hold the weight of dragons bigger than even her own. It was the most beautiful building she’d ever seen, greater even than the Pyramid of Meereen.

She took about a week to settle down before she decided to find Viserion. She called for him, drawing him back to her, and then waited. It took him an entire day to arrive but he came, landing in front of the castle and giving his brothers an affectionate greeting. Daenerys mounted Drogon and watched as Viserion realised she had no need of him and took off again, heading in the direction he came from. Drogon followed.

They flew into the night, Daenerys watching the ground below her. They passed over the Vale, close enough to see the Eyrie in the distance. She watched as the landscape turned to snow, felt the cold grow greater and cursed her decision of wearing silk.

Finally, Viserion slowed and began to circle around a large keep that she recognised as Winterfell. She had been told the Boltons had stolen it from Theon Greyjoy, who stole it from the Starks. None of those families had any connection to dragons.

Drogon suddenly perked up, smelling the air. He called to Viserion who called back, an excited screech as he pulled his wings back and fell down toward Winterfell. Daenerys felt Drogon dip under her to follow his brother. Viserion had smoke steaming out of the corners of his mouth in his excitement, his wings flaring open to land outside the walls of the keep. Drogon was more careful, pulling himself to a stop so as to not throw her off his back. 

Daenerys watched Viserion lift his head up to one of the walls on the castle where a red-headed woman is standing. He exhales smoke from his nose onto her and Daenerys can hear her laugh as she waves it away. She casually set her hand on his snout, stroking him and murmuring. He purred, a shiver running through his body. Viserion turned to look back at his mother and then moved so that his shoulder was pressed against the side of the castle, level with the red-headed girl. She hesitated, looking down at Viserion and stepped onto his back. Daenerys watched in amazement as Viserion turned with her clutching onto his back for dear life, and casually dumped her into the snow.

 

Revenge

 

Sansa was thrilled when her dragon landed outside the castle and offered her a ride in the dead of night. She was less thrilled when he threw her off and into the snow. 

“What are you doing?” She hissed, reaching up to grab his wing. He grunted, nudging her forward. The moon was barely visible, leaving barely any light and Sansa couldn’t see anything in front of her. Then she caught a glint of orange and locked onto that. Glowing slightly in the darkness was one large, reptilian eye. Her dragon lit up a fire in his mouth beside her and bathed a black dragon in the golden flames. 

This dragon was even bigger than hers was, more menacing. She took a step back, getting the opposite vibe she did with her dragon. This one didn’t look friendly or homely, this one looked like it was going to kill her first chance. Her dragon seemed to disagree. He bumped his head into her back, sending her stumbling forward. She glanced back at him and saw no fear from him. He was confident she would be okay. She trusted him.

Sansa took a brave step forward and then another. The black dragon shifted in place, a small curl of dark red flame curling out of the corner of his mouth. She held out her hand to it, putting it barely a foot away from its nose. The dragon leaned forward to sniff her, inhaling her scent and dipping down to smell her hip. Her mark. It seemed satisfied with her, nuzzling her stomach affectionately. Her dragon placed his head beside her, pressing his cheek against her side. She rested her free hand on his muzzle, softly stroking the black dragon with her other. She felt his flames licking at her robes but they didn’t seem to hurt her. When the black dragon exhaled a few sparks, though, those burned her skin. She hissed, rubbing at the areas they hit. Her dragon growled in warning and the black dragon whined apologetically.

Her dragon then lifted his head to look over the black dragon, the light from his fire extending further up the other dragon’s back. She looked up with him and locked eyes with an astonished girl sitting atop the black dragon. Her hair was a shining silver-blonde and her eyes glowed purple with the same intensity as a dragon.  _ Her  _ dragons. This could only be Daenerys Targaryen.

Sansa felt her body shudder pleasantly as she looked at the other girl. The black dragon dropped one shoulder low to allow Daenerys to climb off and she did so, standing mere feet away. She watched as Daenerys,  _ her soulmate,  _ moved closer, slowly, ever so slowly. She stopped with little space between them and Sansa took notice of the fact that Daenerys was almost a whole foot shorter than she was. 

“You’re my soulmate,” Daenerys breathed. “You have to be. No one else could tame one of my dragons.”

“And you must be mine. There is no other Targaryen for me to match with,” Sansa answered. 

Daenerys frowned a bit at that. “Two-headed dragon?”

“Indeed.”

Daenerys smiled, her face glowing golden from the dragonfire. “Then perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I am Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Oh, yes, I know of you and your many titles. Quite flashy.” Daenerys giggled quietly. “I am Sansa Stark, daughter of Eddard Stark and,” she cringed, “wife of Ramsay Bolton.”

Daenerys frowned. “You speak unkindly of him. Is he mean to you?”   
“He’s a sadistic bastard. Quite literally, he was born a bastard. Legitimised before his father died.”

Daenerys nodded solemnly. “Do you wish him dead? I can have him killed this instant.”   
A smile began to make its way onto Sansa’s face. “If we can storm the castle with two giant dragons and scare him shitless.”   
A crazy grin made its way onto Daenerys’s face. “I like the way you think.”

Sansa made to mount her dragon and paused. “What’s his name?”

“Yours? That’s Viserion. Mine is Drogon. I have a third named Rhaegal.”

“Viserion,” Sansa said softly, rubbing his cheek. She swore she saw him smile. 

As she was mounting Viserion, she thought about what her family would think of what she was doing. The last remaining Stark, blindly trusting a Targaryen and about to storm Winterfell with two dragons. They’d probably disown her. It would be reasonable, considering how untrustworthy Targaryens were, but she knew she could never love anyone like Aerys. If Daenerys was her soulmate that meant she would love her, so it was only right to trust her. She was someone Sansa could love, no doubt, and she couldn’t love a madman.

She could feel Viserion’s heat underneath her, the scales rough on her hands put not uncomfortable. She was nestled in a little crevice between his shoulders, the fins stopping directly in front of her and restarting right at her back. She was made to sit here. She felt as if her connection with him was heightened as well. She knew what he was going to do a second before he did it and when she wanted him to move he moved. She gripped onto his fins and looked over at Daenerys. The silver beauty was sitting confidently on Drogon, looking back at her. She smiled and nodded, gesturing for Sansa to go first. She happily did.

Viserion moved forward much quieter than Sansa thought was possible, stalking around toward the front gate. She noticed that all the guards were positioned toward the front of the keep, where the entrance was. It was a dumb move on Ramsay’s part but a fortunate one for them, for none of them had seen Viserion’s fire. He rounded the corner, growling and lifting his head to make himself look bigger. Sansa watched as the guards turned toward them, their faces hidden in the darkness. She could imagine what they were feeling, though. Looking up at a creature at least twenty times the size of a horse, glowing yellow eyes and golden sparks coming out of his mouth.

Viserion regarded them for a moment, letting them process what was standing before them. Then he let loose.

Golden flames burst from his mouth, encasing half the troops in a second. Sansa was careful to keep his fire away from the actual structure, not wanting her home to burn. The screams of the men awoke others and Sansa saw candlelights burst forth from windows. More troops marched out of the castle, swords in hand. Drogon heaved himself up onto the wall behind her, opening his mouth wide and letting red fire glow in his throat. The troops stumbled to a halt and Drogon stepped down from the wall striding toward them with murder in his eyes.

Sansa urged Viserion to follow, holding tightly as he lifted onto his back legs to grip the wall with his wings. She charged toward the troops, stopping right in front of them. “Surrender and you can live!” She yelled down to live. “Accept that Ramsay Bolton will die and Winterfell will once more belong to the Starks and you can stay alive. Refuse and you burn along with your Bolton leader.”

Two-thirds of the men dropped their weapons and booked it away from the two dragons. Sansa nodded to Daenerys and watched as Drogon erupted with red fire, not unlike a spew of lava. Sansa noticed Ramsay emerging from the hold, more men by his side as well as multiple lords. Viserion snarled, stepping closer to then and letting golden flames trickle from his mouth.

Ramsay looked up at her and looked shocked, an expression that was entirely new on him. “Sansa?”

“Hello, Ramsay. Ready to pay for your sins?” A crazed smile made its way onto her face as she thought about Ramsay’s death.

The men around him abandoned him as Viserion charged forward, looming over him like some dark shadow. His jaws opened, throat burning gold as he dropped his head and bit Ramsay in half. Within seconds Ramsay was gone, the only evidence he was there the blood stains on the snow.


	3. Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t care whether I can or not, if it is what you wish it will be done.

Throne

 

Daenerys didn’t speak to Sansa until they both arrived back in Dragonstone. The Stark seemed entirely comfortable being up in the sky atop a dragon, something Daenerys admired about her. She was fearless and confident. Daenerys aspired to be like that, unafraid of anything and never doubting her decisions. How much easier ruling would be.

Drogon and Viserion landed just outside Dragonstone with the dawn behind them. Daenerys dismounted and walked toward Sansa, who was stroking Viserion and muttering to him. When she noticed Daenerys she stepped away, patted Viserion goodbye and walked toward her. “So, this is Dragonstone.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Daenerys said. “That there’s Rhaegal.” She pointed to a green dragon, bigger than Viserion but smaller than Drogon, soaring over the top of the castle to rejoin his brothers. The three dragons all screeched in joy and took off. Sansa smiled as she saw how happy Viserion was. He deserved this, she shouldn’t have to take him from his family.

“I do hope Viserion wasn’t missed while he was with me,” Sansa said.

“Not at all. In fact, he escaped from imprisonment to get to you.” Sansa gave her a confused look. Daenerys sighed sadly. “When my dragons were younger they didn’t understand that there were restrictions. They were uncontrollable and ate whatever they wanted. It eventually got to the point where they burned a child alive and I had to lock them away for the safety of my people.”

Any doubt Sansa had about Daenerys was gone. Anyone who was willing to lock up their children for the good of the people had to be a good ruler. If only Cersei had had that sort of logic and locked Joffrey up. “It was a smart decision. I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.”

“It was difficult. They hated me for a while. Luckily, they’ve forgiven me.” Daenerys began to walk up the steps to the castle, greeting the guards with a smile and a nod. Sansa watched them warily, but nodded in greeting. They nodded back, movement stiff, looking every bit the intense, frightening guards they should be.

“I heard from my hand that you were wed to him once, years ago,” Daenerys said. “Tyrion Lannister?”

“Tyrion is your hand? He’s  _ here?”  _ Sansa said incredulously. “Wow. Oh, yes, he was my husband.”

“Did you like your marriage to him?”

“He never treated me as if I was his wife. We were friends, not very close, but he was one of the few that knew that my soulmate was a Targaryen. I trust him.”

“Would you like to have your marriage annulled?”

“Would you do that?” Sansa said. “Can you?”

“I don’t care whether I can or not, if it is what you wish it will be done.” Sansa smiled and nodded. They approached the doors to the throne room, the guards moving to push them open. Sansa looked at the Dragonstone throne, relieved that it was quite different from the Iron Throne. She didn’t need anything to compare Daenerys to Joffrey.

“It seems no one else has awoken yet. Oh, well. We can speak to them later.” Daenerys moved to sit upon her throne but paused. “Speaking of that topic, when did you last sleep? Shall I prepare a room for you? Perhaps a bath?”

“At least let me meet with your council first. They will want to know I’m here.” Daenerys nodded, seating herself on her throne. Sansa stood awkwardly at the foot of the steps.

Daenerys took notice of this. “Would you like a chair?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Daenerys waved her up, her posture relaxed and not incredibly regal. Sansa obliged, approaching the throne.

“Tell me about yourself. What your life was like before all this violence. When Westeros was at peace.” 

Sansa smiled and began to tell her about when life was like when she had a family.

 

Widowed

 

As soon as the doors began to open Daenerys straightened her posture, tucking her legs to the side and blanking her face. Sansa moved to go down a few steps, knowing that being level with the queen meant you thought yourself equal to her, but Daenerys grabbed her wrist and shook her head. Sansa stepped back to hover behind the throne instead.

Four people entered, two of which Sansa recognised. One was Tyrion Lannister and the other, whom she had never spoken to, was Varys. The two other people were both armed, one westerosi and the other most definitely not. Sansa caught Tyrion’s eye first and watched his face go into shock. He froze. “Sansa?”

“Hello, Tyrion,” she greeted. “Lovely seeing you again.”

“But- aren’t you married to Ramsay?”

“I’ve been widowed.” Sansa smirked as she said that. She widowed herself. Well, with Daenerys’s help. And Viserion, of course. “Speaking of which, are we still married?”

Tyrion stuttered for an answer. “Were we ever really?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Daenerys asked from her throne.

“Well, Your Grace, Sansa and I never consummated the marriage,” Tyrion answered. Sansa took note that he called Daenerys ‘Your Grace.’ She would probably need to as well, even though Daenerys hadn’t asked it of her.

“I see. Either way, your marriage has been annulled.” Sansa was pretty sure you had to have some sort of written paper saying that but no one seemed to want to correct her. They feared her. 

“If I may ask, Your Grace, how did Lady Stark arrive overnight without notice?” Varys asked.

“Dragonback, of course.” 

“And you brought her?”

Daenerys smirked. “No.” Varys opened his mouth to ask but Daenerys didn’t let him. “I believe introductions are in order. Sansa, this is Lord Varys, my master of whisperers, Grey Worm, my army commander, Jorah Mormont, my personal guard, and you already know Tyrion. This is Sansa Stark, daughter of the lord Eddard Stark.” 

Varys hesitated. “Your Grace, can I assume that you were at Winterfell last night with your dragons?”

“Two of them, yes.”

“I’ve just heard that Jon Snow, the Northmen and the free folk made an attempt to remove the Boltons only to find it leaderless with tales of two dragons storming the hold and killing Ramsay. They now hold the North.”

“We just missed them, then. A pity, or perhaps a mercy. They would not take kindly to dragons in Winterfell,” Daenerys said. “Though it might have been forgiven considering Sansa.”

“Your Grace, perhaps it would be wise to ask for an alliance with the North now that it is out of the Bolton’s hands,” Tyrion suggested. “Send a letter to Jon Snow and ask to speak of alliances.”

“Ask him to bend the knee to me. The North is, after all, one of the seven Kingdoms.” Sansa gives Daenerys a disapproving look and she lets an apologetic face show for a second before its back to apathetic. “Shall I begin the letter?”

“It would be wiser if I wrote it. Jon Snow knows me and would be more likely to trust my own words than those of a queen he does not know.”

Daenerys nodded. “Very well. Anything else?” Silence. “Dismissed.”

 

Dragon Racing

 

The next day, after Sansa had bathed and rested, Daenerys took her outside to the dragons. Viserion greeted her heartily, nuzzling at Sansa’s chest. She laughed, her eyes brightening as she rubbed his snout. Daenerys watched with a smile on her face as Drogon moved his head behind her, nudging her slightly. She patted his cheek and mounted him. 

Sansa took notice and looked at her in confusion. Daenerys smiled. “Are you coming?”

A grin spread onto her face as she mounted Viserion. “Lead the way.”

Drogon took off, Viserion on his heels. The two dragons raced each other over the waters, flying in a straight line until Drogon swerved over toward Sansa and splashed her with his tail. Sansa shook the water off of her, glancing over toward Daenerys to see her smirking at her. Sansa turned Viserion toward his brother, ducking underneath him at last second and having Viserion slam his tail into the water. 

Daenerys ducked close to Drogon, avoiding most of the spray. She urged Drogon after Viserion, giving chase. Viserion, being smaller and thus weighting less, was faster than Drogon and put distance between them quickly. Viserion suddenly rose higher before he turned his wings, catching the wind and blowing himself backwards and past Drogon. Sansa spun Viserion around and sped back toward Dragonstone, Drogon curving himself around to follow.

Viserion shot across the water at a speed Sansa didn’t think was possible, the wind pushing against her so much she almost couldn’t hold on. She turned to look at Daenerys and was confused when she noticed the absence of Drogon behind her. She turned her eyes up just in time to see Drogon coming down on them, slamming Viserion and Sansa into the water. Viserion made a sort of chirping sound, turning around to grab Drogon’s claws in his own and pulling the other dragon down with them. She heard Drogon shriek as he was submerged.

Viserion surged upward, pumping his wings down and sending them rocketing out of the water. Drogon flailed for a bit, wings and tail swinging to and fro, but he figured himself out and ducked down, following them out of the water. Viserion crooned, matching Sansa’s laughter as Drogon fought to keep up. Dragonstone came into view, growing larger by the second and Viserion began to circle the island. 

He curved around to the back of the castle, out of view of Drogon and Daenerys. Sansa pulled him up to see where they were and saw Drogon heading straight toward them. He raised his head up and curved his body so that his chest collided with Viserion’s side, sending both dragons toward the ground. Viserion yelped, untangling himself from Drogon and turning so that he slammed into the ground on his feet. Drogon thumped down beside them, Daenerys laughing on his back. She had a bright smile on her face that made her look more like a carefree child than a fearful queen.

Sansa laughed along with her, an actual smile on her face. She hadn’t truly smiled in years, not since King’s Landing. “That was the most fun I’ve had in years,” Sansa admitted, Viserion shuffling so that the two could talk easily from dragonback. “Thank you.”

“Thank  _ you,  _ Sansa. I’ve never had anyone else in the sky with me before. That was amazing.” Daenerys smiled wider, taking Sansa’s breath away. She was glowing with joy and it was the most beautiful thing Sansa had ever seen in her life.

 

Keep It

 

That evening, Daenerys knocked on Sansa’s door. She opened it, offering Daenerys a smile and stepping aside to let her in. She was dressed in sleep clothes, a light silk dress that, while it hid little, was quite comfortable. 

Daenerys started the conversation bluntly. “Jon Snow has accepted our invitation to come south.”

Sansa sat down on one of the chairs by the fire. “Is he to bend the knee?”

“He did not say.” Daenerys sat herself in the chair beside Sansa’s, relaxing. “I do not see any other reason to accept.”

“An alliance, perhaps.”

“The North hasn’t been without a southron ruler since Torrhen Stark, who swore fealty to the Targaryens. He will bend the knee.”

“The North had a King just years ago, when my brother Robb Stark rebelled against Joffrey. He died fighting for independence.” Sansa leaned over to grasp Daenerys’s hand. “The Starks have fought for the North with tooth and nail, against the Lannisters and the Boltons. Jon has reclaimed what is ours. Let him keep it.”

“I shall meet him soon. If I find him worthy enough to lead a Kingdom, I will consider it.”

Sansa squeezed her hand. “Thank you. That is all I ask of you.”

“Enough of this serious talk,” Daenerys said. “Let us speak freely. We are, after all, destined to be lovers.”

“Indeed we are, yes. I’ve already told you much of myself. Couldn’t you return the favour?”

The two talked long into the night, laughing together and enjoying each others company. Daenerys finally left hours later after boldly giving Sansa a kiss on the cheek as farewell.


	4. King in the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want an independent North, yes. But you are not King in the North.

King in the North

 

    Jon arrived two weeks later on the shores of Dragonstone. Sansa paced the throne room anxiously, Daenerys watching her with an amused smile on her face. “Calm down, love. He will be happy to see you’re alive.”

    “Will he, though? I was terrible to him as a child! He has every right to hate me!”

    “Sansa, you’ve changed. You’ve matured beyond your years, and if he doesn’t realise that then he doesn’t deserve your affections.”

    Sansa frowned at Daenerys and opened her mouth to retort when they heard voices approaching the throne room. Sansa froze until Daenerys’s soft voice brought her back to reality and she climbed up the steps to take her place behind the throne. Daenerys gripped her hand, squeezing it and turning to give her a reassuring smile before she straightened herself. Sansa did the same, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She focused on Viserion, feeling how calm and happy he was and tried to feel the same.

    The doors pushed open and she watched with bated breath as Jon Snow entered the room, Ser Davos, Tyrion and Missandei behind him. His eyes lingered on Daenerys before they flicked to her. She watched his eyes widen, his body stiffen. She just watched him for a moment, taking in the moment before she began to stride down the steps toward him. He met her at the bottom of the steps, her throwing herself into his arms and burying her face into his shoulder. She breathed in his scent and sighed at the familiarity. “I’m sorry.”

    “What for?” He asked, his voice sounding worn.

    “For when I was younger. I was a bitch.”

    “You were fine.”

    “Oh, don’t deny it, I was.”

    “Alright, maybe a little.”

    Sansa laughed, pulling away to look at his face. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

    _“I_ can’t believe you’re alive. When you weren’t at Winterfell I thought they’d killed you. How’d you get all the way to Dragonstone?”

    “I had help,” she said, turning to smile at Daenerys. She offered a small smile back, not wanting to break her form.

Jon stepped away from Sansa, dipping his head. “Your Grace, forgive me.”

“Forgiven.” Sansa moved back onto the stairs, not going very far. She went ahead and introduced Daenerys, managing to do it flawlessly after a lot of practice (she had taken the time to learn it from Daenerys, laughing as she mutilated the monologue in her first dozen tries). She, Daenerys and Tyrion all faced Davos, waiting for him to introduce Jon.

“This is Jon Snow,” he said. A pause. “He’s King in the North.” Sansa shoots Daenerys an ‘I told you so’ look. She rolls her eyes. Jon and Davos watch their interaction with confusion.

“Thank you for travelling so far, My Lords,” Daenerys greeted. “I hope the seas weren’t too rough.”

“The winds were kind, Your Grace,” Jon said.

Davos stepped forward. “Apologies. I have a Flea Bottom accent, I know. But Jon Snow is King in the North, Your Grace. He's not a lord.”

Daenerys cocked her head. “Forgive me-” she stopped, not knowing how to address him.

Tyrion fixed this. “Your Grace, this is Ser Davos Seaworth.”

“Forgive me, Ser Davos. I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen in exchange for his life and the lives of the Northmen. Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. But do I have my facts wrong?” Sansa looked at her in confusion and Daenerys gave her a hard look. She knew what she was doing.

Davos froze. “I wasn't there, Your Grace.”

Daenerys smirked. “No. Of course not. But still, an oath is an oath. In perpetuity means - what does perpetuity mean, Lord Tyrion?”

“Forever.”

“Forever. So I assume, My Lord, that you're here to bend the knee.”

Jon looked down, as if almost afraid to answer. “I am not.”

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. You've travelled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?”

“Break faith?” He said incredulously. “Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive. He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms.”

“My father was an evil man. On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. Our two houses were allies for centuries. Those were the best centuries the kingdom's ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with the Targaryens sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. Honour the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North. Together we will save this country from those who would destroy it.”

“You're right,” Jon admitted. “You're not guilty of your father's crime. And I'm not beholden to my ancestor's vows.”

“Then why are you here?” Daenerys said sharply. Sansa gave Daenerys a slight glare, telling her to back off.

“Because I need your help,” Jon said, “and you need mine.”

Daenerys smirked. “Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?”

“I did.”

“And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?”

“But still, _I_ need _your_ help?”

“Not to defeat Cersei,” Davos interrupted. “You could storm King's Landing tomorrow and the city would fall. Hell, we almost took it and we didn't even have dragons.”

“Almost,” Tyrion pointed out. Both Jon and Sansa gave him a scalding look.

“But you haven't stormed King's Landing,” Jon continued. “Why not? The only reason I can see is you don't want to kill thousands of innocent people. It's the fastest way to win the war but you won't do it. Which means at the very least you're better than Cersei.”

“Still, that doesn't explain why I need your help,” Daenerys said.

“Because right now you and I and Cersei and everyone else, we're children playing at a game screaming that the rules aren't fair.”

Daenerys looked at Sansa disapprovingly. “You told me you liked this man.”

“I do.”

“In the time since he's met me he's refused to call me queen, he's refused to bow and now he's calling me a child.”

“I believe he's calling all of us children,” Tyrion said. “Figure of speech.”

“Your Grace, everyone you know will die before winter is over if we don't defeat the enemy to the north,” Jon broke in.

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. “As far as I can see, you are the enemy to the north.”

“I am not your enemy,” Jon said. “The dead are the enemy.”

Daenerys pauses and gives him an incredulous look. “The dead?”

“The Army of the Dead is on the march,” Jon said. “It is real. The White Walkers are real. The Knight King is real. I've seen them. If they get past the wall and we're squabbling amongst ourselves-” he takes a step forward but is blocked by the guards. He gives Daenerys a desperate look. “We’re finished.”

Daenerys is silent for a moment. Everyone looks to her, waiting for her to say something. Finally, she spoke. “I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. She stood from the throne and began walking down the stairs toward Jon. ”We fled before Robert's assassins could find us. Robert was your father's best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me. I don't remember all of their names. I have been sold like a broodmare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile? Faith. Not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea. Any sea.”

She stopped a few feet away from him. “They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will.”

“You'll be ruling over a graveyard if we don't defeat the Night King,” Jon said.

Tyrion stepped forward. “The war against my sister has already begun. You can't expect us to halt hostilities and join you in fighting-”

“Tyrion, consider who you’re speaking to.” They all turn to look at Sansa, who stepped down to join them. “Jon was raised by Eddard Stark, a man of no lies. Jon is no different than him. Even as a child, he never spoke a single lie, even when it was convenient to. You don’t believe him. I understand that. It sounds like nonsense. But I know Jon. I trust him. Why would he come all the way from Winterfell, risking his own life and that of Ser Davos, just to tell you a lie?”

Davos nodded. “Lady Sansa’s right. If we don't put aside our enmities and band together we will die. And then it doesn't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne.”

“If it doesn't matter you might as well kneel,” Tyrion said. “Swear your allegiance to Queen Daenerys. Help her to defeat my sister and together our armies will protect the North.”

“There's no time for that,” Jon said. “There's no time for any of this. While we stand here debating-”

“It takes no time to bend the knee. Pledge your sword to her cause,” Tyrion said.

“And why would I do that?” Jon turned to Daenerys. “I mean no offence, Your Grace, but I don't know you. As far as I can tell your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father's name. And my own father fought to overthrow the Mad King. The lords of the North placed their trust in me to lead them. And I will continue to do so as well as I can.”

Daenerys nodded. “That's fair. It's also fair to point out that I'm the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring yourself king of the northernmost kingdom, you are in open rebellion.”

Sansa stepped over to Daenerys, leaning over to mutter something in her ear. She cocked her head to listen and nodded. “You must forgive my manners. You will both be tired after your long journey. We'll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to your rooms.” She said something in High Valyrian to her guards. They stepped forward, prepared to escort Jon and Davos to their rooms.

Jon resisted. “Am I your prisoner?”

Daenerys considered for a moment. “Not yet.”

 

Trust 

 

“And why was that necessary?” Sansa asked Daenerys once they were alone that evening in Sansa’s chambers.

“I was asking him to bend the knee,” Daenerys said. “I am, after all, to be queen. Is that so wrong?”

“I asked for the North’s independence. Bending the knee is not independence?”

“You want an independent North, yes. But you are not King in the North.” Daenerys sat down on the side of the bed. “Does the North want its independence?”

“You tell me.”

“I believe it does.” Sansa frowned, looking with disapproval at her. Daenerys sighed. “Sit, love. You’re so tense. I will not break my word; the North may still gain its independence. I cannot give that, though, when I have not yet taken the throne. Have trust in me.”

“I do.” Sansa sat down, adjusting so that her back was against the pillows. “I just don’t like you speaking that way to my brother.”

“I must look like a strong ruler if I ever want support. If people think of me as forgiving and merciful, they will think of me as weak. I cannot be seen as weak.” Sansa nodded, dropping her head back with a sigh.

“I cannot fault you for that. It’s a logical thing to do.”

The two sat in silence for a minute. “You spent the afternoon with Jon, did you not?”

“I did,” Sansa said.

“Is he as you remember?”

“He’s gotten wiser. More battle-scarred, both physically and mentally. He’s a leader now. Someone who the people rally around when they need a sword. Not very good at politics, though. He never was one for such intricacies.”

    “Has he always been so short?”

    “As if you’re any better.” Daenerys chuckled, standing up and stretching. She leaned over to kiss Sansa’s cheek before she left. “Would you care to take Viserion and Drogon out tomorrow?”

    “Of course. How could I deny the chance to mess with you more?”

 

Losing 

 

    Sansa curses as she strides down toward the caves where Daenerys is emerging from with Jon, Davos and Missandei. She hears Tyrion stumbling after her but pays him no mind, marching straight up to Daenerys. She turns and gives her a confused look. “What is it?”  
    “We took Casterly Rock,” Tyrion said before Sansa could tell her the bad news. She frowned at him.

Daenerys noticed. “But?”

    “The majority of the Lannister forces weren’t there,” Sansa said. “They were marching on Highgarden. It fell.”

    Daenerys scowled, walking away toward the beach. Sansa and Jon exchange glances before Sansa follows Daenerys, Tyrion and Missandei right behind her. Jon and Davos trail after them.

    Davos hesitated. “You’ll want to discuss this among yourselves. Perhaps-”

“You will stay,” Daenerys said. “All my allies are gone. They’ve been taken from me while I’ve been sitting on this island.”

“We still have the largest army,” Tyrion pointed out.

“Who won’t be able to eat because Cersei has taken all the food from the Reach,” Daenerys said.

“Call Grey Worm and the Unsullied back,” Sansa said. “We still have enough ships to carry the Dothraki to the mainland. Commit to the blockade of King's Landing. We have a plan. It's still the right plan.”

Daenerys rounded on her. “The right plan? This plan that you and Tyrion crafted has lost us Dorne, the Iron Islands and the Reach.”

Tyrion looked guilty. “If I’ve underestimated our enemies-”

“Our enemies? You mean _your_ family?” She scowled. “Perhaps you don’t want to hurt them after all.” She looked out to sea, where her three dragons are gliding over the water. “I have three large dragons. I can fly them to the Red Keep this instant.”

“Daenerys, we’ve talked about this,” Sansa said.

“My enemies are in the Red Keep. What kind of a queen am I if I'm not willing to risk my life to fight them?”

“A smart one,” Tyrion said.

Daenerys stopped, spinning and walking toward Jon. “What do you think I should do?”

Jon looked like he was about to faint. “I would never presume to-”

“I’m at war,” Daenerys said forcefully. “I’m losing. What do you think I should do?”

He looked out at the dragons. “I never thought that dragons would exist again. No one did. The people who follow you know that you made something impossible happen. Maybe that helps them believe that you can make other impossible things happen. Build a world that's different from the shit one they've always known. But if you use them to melt castles and burn cities, you're not different. You're just more of the same.”

 

Changed 

 

    When Daenerys was finally spotted on the horizon atop Drogon Sansa flew out to greet her. Daenerys looked like her spirits had been lifted and seemed happy with the result of the battle. “You won?”

    “Of course. As if they could stand up to Drogon,” Daenerys said, patting him affectionately. “It felt so good to finally give Cersei a bit of what she’s given me.”

    “Oh, I can’t wait to burn that bitch,” Sansa said, smiling at the thought. “Jaime, too. I’ll burn him right before her eyes!”

    Daenerys laughed. As they flew closer to Dragonstone she leaned forward. “Is that Jon?”

    Sansa copied her. “No one else who would wear so many furs this far south.”

    Daenerys flew over him but Sansa fell back, circling around to land before him. Viserion ran forward, opening his jaws threateningly. She was sure it looked threatening from Jon’s perspective but Sansa knew he was only showing off. He would never hurt someone she loved.

    Viserion’s neck blocked her sight of Jon and she leaned closer, trying to see what was happening. Viserion shook underneath her, snarling. She shifted to the side and saw Jon with his hand outstretched, inches away from Viserion’s snout. She watched as he touched his scales, softly petting him as if he were only a dog. She could feel Viserion’s affection for him, affection that came not from her but from his own mind. Odd. He’d never shown to have affection for anyone other than herself and Daenerys.

    Sansa dismounted, walking toward her brother as Viserion took off. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

    “Not the word I’d use, but yes. You ride?”

    “I do. Does it not surprise you?”

    “I’ve seen you out here with that one. Always seems so kind. I thought only Targaryens could ride dragons?”

    Sansa smirked. “As did I, until Viserion. Apparently, those bonded to a Targaryen are treated the same.”

    “Bonded?”  
    Sansa nodded. “Daenerys is my soulmate.”

    Jon looked shocked. “Daenerys?”

    “Indeed. Does _that_ surprise you?”

    “You were always so boy-crazy as a child. What changed?”

    Sansa smiled. “Daenerys.”

 

Intimate 

 

    Sansa visited Daenerys’s chambers later that night, looking happy. Daenerys gave her an amused look. “What have you done?”

    “Arya and Bran have returned to Winterfell.”

    Daenerys smiled. “That’s wonderful! Will you be going to see them?”

    “Eventually. Now isn’t the best time for a visit, especially since Viserion would be the only convenient way to get there.”

    “You’re alright with that?”

    “I’ve been without them for such a long time. Another month or so won’t make much of a difference. Plus, I’m quite happy with my current company.” Daenerys gave her a heartwarming smile, kissing her lightly.

    They’d been teasing each other with kisses such as these, light and quick. Neither had spoken about a relationship, knowing now wasn’t a good time to start one but Daenerys had been bold enough to start with a few kisses here and there and eventually, they both fell into a pattern of giving these. Sansa was sure she’d explode if the constant teasing didn’t stop.

    She leaned forward, catching Daenerys’s lips in hers with much more force than they’d ever used. Daenerys made a surprised sound, tilting backwards slightly but surging forward again to respond.

    Sansa pushed Daenerys back onto the bed, catching her lower lip between her teeth. The dragon queen groaned, tangling her hands in her lover’s hair to pull her closer. Sansa pressed her body against Daenerys, grinding her hips against hers. Daenerys sucked in a breath, pushing her hips up to meet hers. Sansa broke away, tugging her hair so that Daenerys tilted her head back enough to reveal her neck. Sansa began to kiss and suck on the delicate skin, biting her right in the crook of her neck. Daenerys gasped, her fingernails digging into Sansa’s scalp.

    Of all the times Sansa had ever been intimate she’d been the unwilling sub. It felt so good to be the one in control, to be the one on top. It was obvious Daenerys was quite willing which only spurred her on.

    Sansa rolled off of Daenerys, hearing her let out a disappointed whine. When she shrugged her dress off, though, Daenerys seemed less disappointed. “Dress. Off,” Sansa commanded. Daenerys obediently scrapped her dress, tossing it away as she laid back, displaying her naked body.

    Sansa mounted Daenerys, leaning down to kiss her once on the lips before she ducked her head and pressed a kiss between her breasts. She latched onto one of Daenerys’s soft pink nipples, sucking on it and nibbling at the tip. Daenerys moaned, throwing her head back and grabbing onto Sansa’s back, her nails digging into her skin. Sansa didn’t mind. She flicked at her nipple with her tongue, circling around it. She unhooked her teeth, kissing it gently and squeezing Daenerys’s other breast in her hand. She pinched her nipple, grazing her nail across it as she lapped at the other.

    Daenerys’s head was spinning as she gripped at Sansa’s back with enough force that she wouldn’t be surprised if it were bleeding. She felt Sansa press her thigh between her legs, digging it into the bed to provide contact against her cunt. Sansa abandoned Daenerys’s breasts, trailing kisses down her stomach and stopping just before she reached her sweet spot. Daenerys groaned as Sansa moved away, scooting down to kiss either one of Daenerys’s legs.

    “Sansa!” She whined, grabbing onto her hair and tugging to pull her up.

    Sansa raised her head to look at Daenerys with a glint in her eyes. “Beg.”

    “Please, Sansa, please!”

    “Please what?”

    “Eat me out! Fuck me! Do _something!_ ”

    “As Her Grace commands,” Sansa said, dipping down to press a kiss to her clit. She swept her tongue between her folds, sucking softly.  Daenerys groaned, thrusting her hips into Sansa’s face.

    Sansa pulled her mouth off with a lewd _pop._ “Patience, my Queen.”

    Sansa pressed her mouth to Daenerys’s opening, her tongue rubbing circles around it. She slipped it in, listening as Daenerys moaned her name. “Gods, Sansa, please!”

    She took her mouth away and Daenerys whimpered, trying to tug her head back down until fingers replaced her tongue. She yelped in surprise as she felt a single finger slide into her folds, a second one following seconds after. Sansa slid further up, pressing kisses along the way as she slowly fucked Daenerys with two fingers.

    “Sansa! Please! More! Harder! Faster!” Daenerys pleaded, desperate.

    Sansa slipped two more fingers in, moving her hand faster and listening as it squelched each time she pushed back in. “You’re a dirty girl, you know that?” Sansa murmured into her ear. “Such a dirty little whore. Never satisfied.” Daenerys only moaned, scratching at Sansa’s back. Sansa took her free hand and wrapped it around Daenerys’s neck. "My dirty little whore. You’re _mine._ ”

    “Yes! I’m yours, all yours!” Daenerys yelled, thrusting in pace with Sansa’s fingers. She felt her orgasm building up inside of her and began to moan louder, move her hips faster. Sansa leaned down and bit Daenerys’s shoulder and pushed into Daenerys one last time before she began to shake as she orgasmed, her juices spraying Sansa’s hand and staining the sheets beneath them. She screamed, her eyes rolling back into her head with Sansa’s lips muffling the cry.

    Daenerys went slack, her breath ragged as she faded in and out of black. Sansa slid down once more to clean Daenerys off with her tongue, lapping up all the juices. She swiped her finger through Daenerys’s folds, gathering the liquid and leaning up to offer it to her lover. Daenerys took Sansa’s fingers in her mouth, sucking her own juices off of them.

    Sansa fell beside her lover, sighing. Daenerys rolled over to press a tired kiss to her shoulder, nuzzling her face into Sansa’s neck. She wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, kissing her head and reaching to drape the sheets over their exposed bodies.

 

Downfall 

 

    “We’ve received a letter from the North,” Tyrion said, stepping up to stand beside Daenerys where she was looking out on her dragons. “Jon and the others are trapped beyond the wall.”

    “Trapped?” Daenerys said incredulously. “And how have they accomplished that?”

    “I don’t know, Your Grace. They did not tell me. The letter was not very informative.”

    Daenerys cursed. “Fetch Sansa.”

    “What are you going to do?”

    Daenerys growled. “Do as I command.” Tyrion bowed his head and obeyed.

    When Sansa reached where Daenerys was, she was already heading toward the dragons. Tyrion had filled her in on the contents of the letter and she knew what Daenerys had in mind. Tyrion seemed to figure it out as well. “Sansa, please talk her out of this.”  
    “And why should I?” She answered, already walking toward Viserion. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

    “Sansa, Daenerys going is bad enough. We don’t need you risking your life as well!”

    “So you’re saying I should sit here while my brother gets himself killed up North when I could reach him in mere hours with a force more powerful than an army?” Sansa snapped, spinning on Tyrion. “I should sit here while people die when I could prevent it?”

    “Sansa, that’s not-”

    “Please shut up, Lord Tyrion. I am not in the mood to debate.” Tyrion stared after her sadly as she mounted Viserion, giving Daenerys a nod as the three dragons dropped into the air.

    It was evening when they swept over the wall, and within a scarily short amount of time the Army of the Dead was in sight. Sansa could see a small group of people fending off wights from atop a small island of rock, the army trickling closer faster than they were killing. She urged Viserion down, leaning close to his scales and aiming a stream of golden fire at the wights before them. They leapt back as the fire consumed the undead, looking up as Viserion passed overhead. Drogon and Rhaegal followed after, the latter’s fire a dark evergreen that looked odd next to the familiar reds and golds of his brothers.

    Daenerys landed Drogon on the ground, collecting the men on his back. Sansa made another round over them, burning the wights closest to them. Rhaegal stayed away from the main cluster, instead flying over the main body of the army and burning them.

    Four more rounds over and a shriek suddenly filled the sky. All heads turned toward Rhaegal, who was plummeting to the ground wreathed in burning green. Then the green extinguished and in its place was blood. Viserion faltered, his grief overwhelming Sansa as he let out a long, mournful roar. Rhaegal’s cries were unbearable but soon stopped as he crashed into the ice, his body falling down into the freezing water. He gave one last groan, blood spurting from his mouth as his head fell into the blue. The water was motionless.

    Drogon and Viserion both called out to their brother, desperate for a response. Sansa fought back tears, rubbing Viserion’s shoulder and looking over toward the Night King. In his hand was a long javelin of ice, pointed straight toward her. He threw it at Viserion and Sansa pushed him down as hard as she could. Viserion tucked his wings in, dropping to the ground and the javelin flew right over him, sailing straight through one of his tail fins. Sansa pulled him up desperately, turning him in the direction of the wall and urging him to go _faster._ She heard Drogon lift off behind them but didn’t dare look back, only pushing Viserion forward with a new fear in her heart for the life of her dragon.


	5. Promise

Promise

 

Facing Cersei wasn’t an easy thing to do. They didn’t speak, Sansa spoke to no one from the Lannister side, but they exchanged glares throughout the whole proceeding. Jon once again proved that he was terrible at politics and Sansa basically had a horrible day.

Sansa entered Daenerys’s chambers back at Dragonstone without even knocking, collapsing into her bed with a groan. Daenerys herself was curled up in a chair by the fire and just gave Sansa sorry expression. “Rough day?”

“You were there, you tell me.” Daenerys sighed, walking over to the bed and sitting on the side, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of her neck. 

“Cersei will help us win this war, don’t worry.”

“She won’t.”

“She promised she would.”

“Her promises mean nothing.” Sansa rolled over onto her back. “If Jon was right about anything, it’s that words can mean nothing when used to tell lies. Cersei never keeps her word.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t, but she’s with a child. She has reason to help us.”

“Maybe she does have a child and maybe she does care about their life, but I won’t change my mind. Cersei will not send her forces to help us.”

“Sansa-”

She grabbed Daenerys’s hand. “Trust me on this. I know Cersei, better than anyone in this castle. Tyrion has seen her good side, her facade. Perhaps she used to be what he thinks she is but she isn’t anymore. She doesn’t care about anything other than herself and that throne.”

Daenerys stayed silent. “Do you trust my word?”

“What?” Sansa’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You said Cersei’s word means nothing. Does mine still mean something?”   
“Of course.” Sansa sat up, wrapping both hands around hers. “Of course it does.”

“Then let me make a promise to you.” Daenerys leaned forward and brushed her lips against Sansa’s. “We will make it out of this alive, whether Cersei helps us or not. We are stronger than the dead, we are stronger than the night. We will survive.”

Sansa closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against Daenerys’s. “I wish that was the case.”

“We have over a hundred thousand men fighting for us along with two dragons. The Night King doesn’t stand a chance, no matter how big his army gets. The dead are just that: dead. They have no intelligence. We can beat them.”

“Maybe they are mindless, but an intelligent creature controls them. Maybe they are weak, but numbers can overwhelm. Maybe we do have dragons, but the Night King knows how to kill them.” Sansa pulled back, gripping Daenerys’s chin. “Wistful thinking won’t help us, we need to think about reality if we want to live.”

“Sansa, think about how much we’ve already survived. We can survive once more.”

“This is bigger than anything either of us have ever faced!” Sansa took in a shaky breath. “This isn’t a rapist or an assassin or a sadist, this is an army of magic. This is out of this world.”

Daenerys raised her hands to her cheeks, cradling Sansa’s face. “We will survive.”

“How can you-” Daenerys surged forward and pressed her mouth to hers, silencing her if only for a moment. “Daenerys-”

“Shh,” Daenerys pressed a finger to her lips. “We can continue this later. Right now you need to relax. Let me help you forget.”

They fell back onto the bed together and forgot about all their troubles.

 

Reunion

 

They landed in White Harbour a week later and two days after that Winterfell was in sight. Daenerys rode between Sansa and Jon, all three atop horses black as night. Sansa looked toward the keep with anticipation, excited after learning that Bran and Arya had returned. She had thought them both dead for years.

They marched through the passageways of Winterfell, citizens staring at them distrustingly but some with awe. Many gaped when they saw Sansa riding alongside Daenerys and Jon, whispers popping up as hands pointed toward her. The dragons shrieked, swooping by and creating havoc within the Northerners. Daenerys and Sansa shared amused looks.

Jon and Sansa entered before Daenerys. Arya and Bran stood at the front of the lords, the former looking greatly annoyed at having to be there. She was likely having to act as a leader figure with both her and Jon down south, Sansa realised.

Arya’s eyes missed Sansa and locked onto Jon, surging forward as he hopped off his horse. She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. Sansa dismounted, handing her horse off to a stable boy and walking over to her sister. Jon noticed her and disentangled from Arya, nodding in Sansa’s direction. Arya turned and it was almost comical how surprised she looked.

The two met halfway, embracing each other. Sansa held her close, relishing the feeling of her, of  _ family.  _ The two may not have gotten along well when they were younger but now they’d both been through too much to have any resentment. 

“I thought you were dead,” Arya muttered into Sansa’s shoulder. “No one knew where you had gone.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sansa said. “I’ve returned and I won’t leave anytime soon.” Arya pulled away, practically beaming at her. Family was something she hadn’t had in so long; to be reunited with both Sansa  _ and  _ Jon was almost too much. 

Arya glanced at something over Sansa’s shoulder and her smile dissipated. Sansa turned and saw that Daenerys was hovering a few feet behind her, unsure of exactly how to proceed with both of her escorts preoccupied. Sansa beckoned her over. “Arya, this is Queen Daenerys Targaryen. Daenerys, this is my sister, Arya Stark.”

Daenerys gave Arya a welcoming smile. “The North is as beautiful as your sister claimed.”

Arya’s frown didn’t budge. “Welcome to Winterfell, Your Grace.”

“We have no time for this,” Bran interrupted from his place with the Lords. “The Night King has your dragon. He's one of them now. The Wall has fallen, the dead march south.”

Sansa felt a jolt go through her as he said this. Rhaegal? This was worse than they thought. She snuck a glance at Daenerys and felt pity as she saw the dread on her face. 

Sansa straightened her composure. “How about we take this to a meeting? We can go over what we must in an orderly fashion.” Heads nodded in agreement. Arya sent one last scalding glance at Daenerys before stalking off into the castle. Sansa smiled apologetically at her.

 

Skies

 

“You don’t trust her.”

“Of course I don’t!” Arya hissed, pacing back and forth. “She’s a Targaryen, as well as a foreign ruler.”

“Both Jon and I have bent the knee to her. Does that not mean something to you?”

Arya scowled. “Both of you trust too easily. I can’t be too careful.”

“I’ve learnt my lesson about that, Arya. Daenerys has my full trust, and none of it is misplaced. She hasn’t done anything to earn your speculation.”

“Those dragons of hers could burn down this entire castle if she commanded them to and we couldn’t do anything about it!” She snapped. “Say I do trust her. I don’t trust her beasts.”

“The dragons are not  _ beasts,”  _ Sansa said, her voice rising. “They have minds of their own.”

“Oh, and what would you know? You always hated my dragon obsession and I doubt you’d be willing to get anywhere near them.”

Sansa stood. “Come with me.”

“What? Are you going to take me to your precious dragon queen?”

“No.” Arya reluctantly followed her sister, her curiosity getting the better of her. Sansa led her outside the keep and through the Dothraki camps. Arya regarded the savages with a sort of respect and then looked back toward their destination. The two dragons were laying in the snow straight ahead of them.

Arya stalled. “You’re taking me to the dragons?”

“Yes.”

“You think I’m dumb enough to go anywhere near those things?”

Sansa stopped, turning to face her sister. “Do you trust me?”

Arya paused. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. I do trust you, but not enough to face two dragons.”

Sansa shrugged. “Your loss.” She approached Drogon and Viserion, shooting a glance over her shoulder. Arya was following with slow steps, her eyes locked onto Sansa. She was worried. Reasonable.

Viserion huffed, nudging her with his head. She stroked his scales, the heat a welcome difference to the unusually cold air. Drogon pressed into her side, wanting attention on him as well. Sansa chuckled but reached her free hand to rub on him as well. She heard Arya gasp behind her and smiled, turning around to beckon her closer. Drogon snarled, hunching over her protectively. Sansa smacked his neck. “Down, Drogon.” The dragon growled but relaxed back down.

Arya gaped at her. “How are you-”

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” Sansa interrupted. “If this gets out it could cause Daenerys to possibly lose supporters.”

“What? What could? You controlling her dragons?”

“No, the reason why I can control them.” Viserion pressed his cheek to her side and she leaned on him, wrapping an arm around his horn. Drogon pressed onto her other side. “Daenerys is my soulmate.”

Arya stiffened. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Ask her, she’ll say no different. Now come closer. They won’t bite.”

“Didn’t that one- Drogon- just growl at me?”

“He didn’t know any better. I can keep Drogon restrained.”

Arya looked at Viserion. “And the other?”   
“He’d never dare.” Sansa nudged the two giant heads away from her and stepped forward to stand beside Arya. Drogon sighed, shifting away from them but Viserion edged closer, sniffing at Arya. He purred, nuzzling her chest. Recognising her as kin.

Sansa moved away from Viserion toward Drogon. Arya gave her a curious look and watched as she climbed onto Drogon’s back with no resistance from him. She smiled at Arya, gesturing to Viserion’s back. “Go on.”

“I can’t ride a dragon!” Arya insisted. “I’m a Stark.”

“So am I.”

“You’re connected to Daenerys.”

“And you’re connected to me,” Sansa said. “Viserion’s my dragon. He won’t hurt you.” Viserion dropped his side down and pulled his wing in to allow her to mount him. Arya reluctantly obliged, climbing onto his back. Once she was settled between Viserion’s shoulders and firmly gripping his fins Viserion leapt off the ground, wings pumping loudly. Drogon took off right after her.

Sansa noticed that riding Drogon was a bit different. It wasn’t as comfortable and she didn’t have nearly as much control over him, after all, she wasn’t his rider. Drogon was also stronger than Viserion, the flexing muscles of his wings more prominent. It required physical commands to control him, something Sansa wasn’t used to but could figure out.

Viserion shot toward Winterfell, swooping over the courtyard with a shriek. He twisted until he was vertical to the ground, completing a circle around half of the castle. Sansa urged Drogon faster, diving down so that she was in front of Viserion. She turned to look at Arya and smiled when she saw the huge grin on her sisters face. 

She took Drogon up and back down, watching as Arya laughed in exhilaration. Sansa turned her attention to the large chasm fast approaching. Drogon was eager to dive down it, not even waiting for her command before folding his wings back and plummeting toward the snow-covered ground. Viserion screeched in jubilation as he raced them toward the bottom, pulling up right on their heels. The two dragons flew through the canyons until it got too narrow to continue and then Sansa turned them back toward Winterfell.

They landed back outside the castle. Viserion dropped down beside his brother, Arya panting on his back with a wide smile on her face. “That was amazing!”

“I thought you’d enjoy it,” Sansa said, dismounting. She patted Viserion once before they left. “You always did love horseback riding, dragons as well.”

“I never would’ve dreamed I’d be riding a dragon, but I just did, with Sansa Stark as well. If someone would’ve told me you’d own a dragon I’d have thought they were mad,” Arya chuckled.

“Do they scare you anymore?”

“Well, Drogon did seem to hate me,” Arya said, “but I don’t think I’m afraid of them anymore.”

“Good.” Now she just had to trust in their mother.

 

Long Night

 

Sansa watched the preparations from her place atop Viserion. She spotted her brother on a horse with the Dothraki, Ghost by his side. A sad smile graced her face; Lady had been a wonderful companion. 

She heard a conch horn blow and took off, gliding down to light the trenches. Drogon followed behind, the red and gold creating an eerie contrast. Sansa landed Viserion atop one of Winterfell's towers, waiting along with the rest of the men for something.

An otherworldly shriek resonated off of the darkness as the first wave came upon them. The wights crashed into the flames, dissolving into ashes. As more and more piled on top the flames began to flicker off and the dragons rose once more to relight, Daenerys taking Drogon off to torch the army. The first few wights began to scramble through the fire and the Unsullied kept them back. 

Sansa and Daenerys burnt the wights by the thousands. Already the trench had to be relit thrice, taking time that could be used to exterminate the wights. The Unsullied had crossed the trench, making their way through the undead with the Northern forces not far behind. The Dothraki pranced in place, ready for their time to fight.

An alien scream sounded from the depths of the clouds as an undead Rhaegal swooped down, breathing blue flame onto those remaining behind the trench. The Dothraki were demolished within seconds. Sansa turned Viserion around to chase after the skeletal dragon. 

Drogon reached them before she did. He crashed into Rhaegal, jaws surging forward to snap at his brother’s neck. Rhaegal screeched, claws scratching blindly at Drogon. Viserion angled himself, opening his claws to grab at Rhaegal’s neck and pull him away from Drogon. He flailed, head biting at Viserion’s legs. Drogon followed, grabbing onto Rhaegal’s tail and pulling so hard that it came off with a sickening  _ snap. _

__ An idea formed in Sansa’s mind. “Daenerys!” She yelled. “Grab his wing!”

“And do what?”

“Pull!”

Viserion lunged for one of Rhaegal’s wings, trying to get ahold but Rhaegal was purposely manoeuvring himself so that he couldn’t. Drogon came from behind, grabbing onto a wing and tugging. Rhaegal squealed, turning toward Drogon to try and shake off his hold. Sansa took that chance. Viserion locked his claws onto Rhaegal’s other wing and began to tug it away from Drogon. Daenerys got the hint, urging Drogon to pull back.

Rhaegal went limp. Viserion faltered as more weight was placed upon him but Sansa urged him on, urged him to pull. Both dragons had flames spurting from the corners of their mouths with the effort, Drogon letting out a long shriek before Rhaegal’s body couldn’t take it anymore. The skin tore, muscles ripping as his body was literally split in two. Viserion jolted back, left gripping half of a corpse. He growled, shaking it off his talons.

“Where’s the Night King?” Daenerys yelled over the howling winds.

“He wasn’t on him!” Sansa called back, searching the ground for any sign of the zombie king. “He must be somewhere behind the army!”

As if on cue, Viserion let out a squeal as a javelin of ice pierced his shoulder, going straight through Sansa’s leg. She gasped in pain and watched Daenerys’s face showed terror as Viserion began to plummet toward the ground.

Sansa pulled with all her diminishing strength, trying to turn him up. Viserion flailed as they dropped, only able to angle Sansa away from the ground as he crashed into a snow drift. Sansa was flung off of him, slamming into the snow. Her shoulder erupted in pain. Just what she needed.

She lay there, panting as her vision swam. The sounds of the wights was distant now whether from her grogginess or from actual space. She hoped it was the latter. 

Light burst forth from above her, momentarily blinding her. Drogon swooped by, lighting up a battalion of wights that had been heading straight toward her. More were behind them. Sansa stumbled onto her feet, barely containing a scream as her foot landed on the ground. The world spun around her and she collapsed back onto the ground. 

“Sansa! Sansa, we need to go!” A hand gripped her and pulled her up, draping her arm around their shoulder. She recognised the voice, this was someone she knew. She helped as much as she could, moving her legs underneath her in attempt to walk. “Work with me!”

“Arya?” She rasped, turning her head to look at the blurry face of her saviour. 

“Yes, it’s me, now come on!” Drogon covered them from behind as Arya led her toward Winterfell. The trenched had diminished and wights stormed the castle gates, piling on top of each other as they tried to climb the walls. Arya led her around and opened a window, sliding Sansa through and then herself.

Sansa crumpled to the floor, unable to hold her own weight. Arya picked her back up, leading her deeper into the castle. They reached the crypts, where everyone who wasn’t fighting was hiding. Arya yelled for a maester, settling Sansa down against the walls. A commotion began around her, about what she couldn’t tell. Her vision flickered in and out of blackness until she finally gave in.


	6. Lifeless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One side was mostly intact, the side she had been walking through. The other was entirely demolished. Blood stained the snow, staining the ground red.

Lifeless

 

Sansa awoke to cold, empty silence. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. She sat up, looking around. She was still in the crypts, sprawled across the floor as if knocked from how she had been sat. There was no sign of any life around her. There weren’t any sounds of fighting from outside. 

She felt a horrific jolt go through her as she noticed the tombs. Each casket had been smashed open, and not a single body lay inside. She stood up, wincing as she rested her weight on her leg. The wound was stitched together, well, mostly. About halfway through the stitched started to get shaky out of place until they eventually stopped. Her shoulder was fine, somehow, only a little sore. Perhaps it hadn’t been broken, then. Dislocated? 

She just then realised that she was covered in blood. Dry blood. Blood covered the floors, looking as if a massacre had happened. There were no bodies left behind to show where it had all come from.

Sansa limped over to the stairs, climbing them as quickly as she could. The hallways were just as quiet, all the torches put out. The only light came from places in the walls and ceiling where entire chunks were gone. One hallway was entirely caved in and she had to turn back and find another path.

She climbed to the second story, finding her way out onto the high walls of Winterfell. She emerged into the light, the first thing she sees is the entirety of the castle. One side was mostly intact, the side she had been walking through. The other was entirely demolished. Blood stained the snow, staining the ground red. Sansa turned her attention to the fields outside. Just like the courtyard. Red and empty.

She choked back a sob looking at the empty fields and demolished castle. This was her home that had been destroyed, her family and friends that had left the blood on the snow. Now she stood here at the mercy of the elements alone. Somehow. How had she escaped unscathed? There was no one else in the castle. What had left her the last one here? Perhaps it was because she was already bleeding out? Was it that she was motionless? Asleep?

A loud roar echoed off the blank expanse. Sansa’s head whipped up to see a large golden dragon plummeting down toward her, squealing in excitement. 

“Viserion!” Sansa cried. He roared, flaring his wings out and slamming into the rubble. He scrambled over to her, fire leaking from his mouth. He reached his muzzle up to her and she threw her arms around it, crying tears of joy. Viserion rumbled happily, prancing in place. She placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

He shifted around, offering his shoulder up to her. She climbed onto him, rubbing his back. “Daenerys,” Sansa muttered. “Find her. I don’t care if she’s a wight, _ find her.” _

Viserion crooned, shifting to get a good grip on the ground. He opened his wings and took off, racing south. Toward death, most likely. But what else was there anymore?

 

Battle for the Dawn

 

They flew for an hour tops. The Army of the Dead hadn’t gotten very far, but what they’d left behind was the icy blackness of the long night. Sansa was barely able to see the army if not for the glow that came from the south. Viserion made to flew past it but Sansa urged him into a dive. If they were to pass the army she might as well do some damage.

Viserion began to curve upward to slow his fall when they heard a screech. Sansa’s head whipped to the side to see a large black dragon crash straight into them. Her first thought was that Drogon was now an undead dragon, she watched as his head swung past her and a large orange eye locked onto her. It lit up in recognition and Drogon pushed himself away, hovering in the air. Sansa leaned over Viserion’s shoulder to see if she could catch a glimpse of Daenerys. A flash of white caught her eye and she watched as Drogon twisted to allow her to view. 

Daenerys was looking at Viserion with both relief and confusion as if she couldn’t believe he was alive. Drogon bumped her with his shoulder to catch her attention. Daenerys looked at her dragon as he pointed his muzzle toward Sansa. Her head turned and they locked eyes for a split second before an ice spear flew between the two dragons.

Sansa flashed her a smile before she turned Viserion down toward the army once more, releasing his golden flames upon the dead. The army didn’t seem to have grown much since she last saw it but it could be that enough of the wights had been killed to make up for the living that died. She shook that thought from her mind, focusing on watching for any more attacks as Viserion burned the army. 

Her ears picked up an odd sound, like thundering and whooping. She turned to look back north to see the Dothraki charging into the left flank of the army, driving the army over toward where a wall of Unsullied stood. Northern forces charged in from the front along with the Free Folk. Sansa almost laughed in the joy of learning that not everyone was dead, there were survivors. Viserion voiced her elation, roaring with delight as he banked over to the Dothraki, who were struggling the most against the wights.

Viserion placed a line of fire upon the wights that had piled up to reach the Dothraki, looping around over the savages so close that his wingtip almost brushed against some of the horses. He echoed the cheers of the Dothraki as he flew back into the battle from over them. 

“Sansa!” She turned to see Drogon swooping down from above flying beside them. Daenerys was leaning over in her direction. “Help me section off the army!”

“Section it off?”

“Create fire barriers! Split it up! It’ll be easier for the ground forces to manage!”

Sansa nodded and rose up higher, starting from the back of the army and carving a line of flame straight through the middle. She rose up just before the flames touched against the Wildlings, curving around to fire another line through the army. Drogon flew perpendicular to how she had, x-ing off the army into four sections. The fires quickly began to die out in the snow but the dragonfire kept it burning for longer than any normal flame.

After a bit of time the army had already been reduced by almost half, but so had the forces of the living. Drogon called for Viserion and swerved off toward the centre of the army. Sansa urged Viserion after him.

Sansa soon spotted what Daenerys had seen. Right in the middle of the army was the Night King, surrounded by six White Walkers. Drogon dove straight down, opening his jaws and snapping them around the Night King.

It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Could Drogon really just eat the Night King and it would all be over? Sansa watched Drogon for a second as he held the king in his mouth. A good thing, too, for the dragon suddenly squealed as a long, blue sword tip stuck out the top of his snout. He spat the Night King out, howling in pain as he swung his head to and fro in attempt to dislodge the sword stuck in his mouth. Viserion flamed the Night King in his anger, spitting golden flames that burned almost too bright to look at. Sansa watched the flames and swallowed back revulsion as she spotted the Night King staring up at her with a malicious grin on his face.

Drogon lost his air in his flailing, crashing onto the ground and immediately being swarmed by the wights. He thrashed, attempting to dislodge the wights and Sansa watched in horror as he only succeeded in dislodging Daenerys. He screeched, lifting off and throwing himself around to rid himself of the wights. Viserion slammed down behind his mother, keeping the wights back with his fire.

A glimmer of movement from Daenerys caught her attention. Jorah stood in front of her, sword held before him protectively. He nodded to Sansa. He would keep her safe, Sansa had no doubt. Still, she felt uneasy as Viserion lifted back into the sky.

The army was beginning to overwhelm the living, the swarms growing to be too much. The Night King had to die, and soon.

 

Shatter

 

Daenerys fought. She held a dragonglass dagger in her and stabbed at any wight that came at her. Jorah protected her back and she protected his. Drogon hadn’t shown himself again and Sansa had Viserion off covering for the rest of the armies. She had always fought the wights from above, never from the ground, and it was so much more terrifying than she had ever thought it would be. They came from any and every direction, straight at her and it was all she could do to get every one. 

A while after she heard Jorah take a sharp breath and drop to his knees. She turned around and let out a strangled gasp as she saw the many wounds he had: cuts all over his arms and face, multiple stab wounds in his stomach and one seemed to have just gotten him in the lung. She couldn’t mourn for long, as the wights were almost on her. She held up her knife, preparing to be attacked from all sides.

Suddenly, the wights all stilled, turning to face the same direction. Daenerys rose onto the tip of her toes to see above the skeletons, spotting a light in front of them. She pushed through the wights, half expecting them to suddenly burst back into action and slaughter her, but they didn’t. Finally, she emerged at the front. There was Bran Stark, sitting in his chair as he stared up at the Night King. Defenceless; Theon was nowhere to be seen. 

Daenerys stumbled out of the group, yelling hoarsely what was meant to be some sort of word but really wasn’t. The Night King turned to look at her, reaching for his sword just to realise it wasn’t there, still stuck in Drogon’s mouth somewhere. It didn’t seem to bother him, he only stood there as a dozen wights emerged to march toward her. Too many for her to take alone. In a last desperate act of defiance, she charged at the Night King. 

He swatted her to the side as if she were a fly, her dagger flying out of her hands. He regarded her for a second and then seemingly deciding that she was no threat and calling off the wights. She panted as she lay in the snow, half of her face submerged in the white. A glint of black captured her attention and she began to pull herself toward the dagger, trying to stumble onto her feet only to be knocked back down by the Night King. She lay there helpless as he reached a hand forward to strangle Bran.

The Night King suddenly turned around, looking up as Viserion descended upon him with claws outstretched. He grabbed the Night King, throwing him away from Bran and then pinning him beneath his claws as Viserion landed. The wights burst into action, charging but Viserion kept them back with his golden fire. Before he could be swarmed Daenerys lunged forward and grabbed her dagger, racing over to the Night King as quickly as she could in the heavy snow. She tripped and scrambled back onto her feet, stabbing a wight before she fell to her knees beside Viserion’s huge talons and stabbed the dagger straight into the Night King.

He shattered into millions of shards of ice, many of them striking Daenerys and cutting her, but nothing she couldn’t handle. The wights around them began to follow suit, bursting into ice.

Daenerys sighed, collapsing against Viserion’s leg. She heard the snow crunching behind her and felt someone grab her arm and lift her onto her feet. Sansa looked back at her, smiling before encasing her in her arms. Daenerys sank into the embrace, crying tears of both mourning and relief. Sansa’s own tears dripped onto her shoulder and Viserion curled up around them, hiding them from the rest of the world as Sansa tilted her chin up and kissed her through the sounds of victory.

 

Frost

 

Drogon was back the next day, the sword inexplicitly gone. Daenerys went out with a maester to check him out.

The sword had done…  _ something  _ to him. He seemed to be fine, not acting weirdly at all but his entire upper jaw, all the way up to his left eye was covered in a white sort of frost. Even his eye had a white glaze over it, the orange now looking a bit bluer. Daenerys rubbed at the white but it didn’t seem to be coming off.

“It must have shattered along with the Night King,” the maester said. “Likely the sword would’ve consumed him, turning him into another wight. It’s impossible to tell for sure.”

“He’ll be okay, right?”

“He should be fine as long as he’s careful with his food. Try feeding him smaller things until the wound gets better.” Daenerys nodded, stroking Drogon’s now white muzzle. He purred and Daenerys jumped back in surprise as blue flames flickered out of the corner of his mouth. He’s okay, she reminded herself. He’s still your dragon.

Viserion crept closer, curious about his brother. He sniffed at Drogon’s muzzle, growling at the frost and exhaled a bit of flame onto the white. It sizzled but didn’t erase the frost. Viserion backed away, sitting on his haunches as if waiting. Drogon opened his mouth and spat a stream of fire into the snow. It was still mostly red but the edges flickered blue. Disturbingly, some of the blue flames flew out of the hole that went through his mouth. Drogon whined and Viserion crooned back to him.

The battle may be over, but it left behind destruction.

 

Relief

 

Daenerys met Sansa in her chambers. Sansa looked up as she entered, folding up the papers she was looking at and greeting her. “Is Drogon alright?”

“He’s okay, just a bit different,” Daenerys said, wincing.

“Different?”

“The sword, the maester said that if the Night King hadn’t died it would have turned him into a wight. It partway did.”

“He’s alright, though?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Sansa sighed, pulling Daenerys into an embrace and burying her face into her hair. “I thought you were all dead.”

“I thought you were dead!” Daenerys said incredulously, pulling back enough to look Sansa in the face. “How did you get out alive?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I woke up in the crypts and the entire castle was abandoned. I thought the Night King had killed you all.”

“We had to fall back. The army was about to overwhelm us, so we abandoned Winterfell and put as much distance between us and the army as we could. Neither you nor Viserion were anywhere to be seen.”

“Who all died?”

“Lyanna Mormont, Beric Dondarrian, Melisandre, Theon,” she paused, her breath hitching. “Jon and Jorah.”

Sansa froze. “Jon is dead?”

“He went after the Night King. He- he failed. Took a spear through the heart.” Sansa let out a choked sob, collapsing into Daenerys. She helped her over to the bed, laying them both down across the sheets. Daenerys held Sansa close as she cried for her fallen brother, tears slipping from her own eyes as she mourned those she had lost.

 

South

 

“Your Grace, with all due respect, is it really a good idea to sail south  _ now?” _

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Daenerys answered her hand. “My forces will now grow within the time we wait.”

“No, but they will heal. The Dothraki are greatly wounded.”

“They will have time to heal on the journey south. Besides, the Unsullied are fine and the Northern forces are not such wounded.”

“What about Drogon?” Tyrion said, looking out the window at the dragon. “He needs time to heal.”

“For what? His only wound is in his mouth.”

“He will be more receptive if he is fully healed.”

“He is as receptive as he needs to be.” Daenerys began to pace. “I see no reason to wait.”

“Do you not want time to rest between battles?”

“Cersei will expect us to rest between battles. It is better to go while she isn’t expecting us.”

“Your Grace, you are moving an army. It’s hard to miss an army marching toward King’s Landing.”

“Then we sail.”

“To where? Dragonstone?” Tyrion sighed. “Cersei will expect us to sail for Dragonstone.”

Daenerys paused. “The Army of the Vale fought with us, correct?”

“...Yes.”

“So if we dock somewhere in the Vale then march the rest of the way?”

“I go back to my previous statement: an army is hard to miss.”

“Can we not surround the city?”

“You could try, but Cersei has the Golden Company as well as the Lannister army.”

Daenerys just smirked. “Not if we burn them.”


	7. Destroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The city was hers! All the traitors were dead and she held more power than anyone else in the country. The entire continent was hers now. Free for her to do as she liked.

Destroy

 

Daenerys glided over the city of King’s Landing. Beneath her was the castle she’d been lusting after for so long, within it the throne that people had stolen from her. What this entire conquest was for. She had her army surrounding the city, two of her dragons above it and a sound plan that was sure to succeed.

Catapults around the army burst into action, smashing through the walls with the force of fire. Drogon began to drop, swooping down and aiming straight for the gates of the city. Drogon burst forth with red fire, the gates crumpling beneath the force of it and a good portion of the army going down with it. He passed over the gates, turning to make another pass. Her Dothraki roared their excitement as they rode forward, Drogon soaring over their heads and carving a line of fire through the Golden Company. She could hear their screams from the air. 

Her army infiltrated the city, charging through the debris and into the streets, pushing aside any civilian still outside. From her vantage point, Daenerys could see the Lannister Army making their way through the streets toward her own men. She grinned as she imagined the surprise they’d get when they saw a wall of savages racing toward them with blades at the ready. For now, though, she turned her attention back to the men that  _ she  _ was currently crushing.

Viserion charged over her head, releasing his own fury down onto the soldiers. Daenerys grinned, circling Drogon around the city to resume her wreckage. Half the army had fled already and the rest was scattered so far apart that her fire wasn’t killing nearly as many as she would’ve liked.

Daenerys changed tactics, having Drogon drop down onto land. He shuddered, letting out the loudest, most intimidating roar he could muster. The soldiers before her dropped their weapons, rushing away in fear as Drogon threw his flames down upon them. He marched further up the wall, bellowing at any soldier remaining by the city. A group of particularly brave soldiers stood their ground against her, holding their swords in front of them as if it could do anything against Drogon. Before she could deal with them Viserion screeched, falling down on them with fire and fury. Sansa flashed her a grin before Viserion took to the skies once more.

Drogon continued his rampage until Daenerys decided that she was accomplishing nothing. Whatever was left of the army wouldn’t stand a chance against her or her army should they choose to fight, and most seemed to be choosing surrender. Drogon climbed atop the wreckage of the wall, trying to step up higher onto one of the houses but crashing through it instead. He growled, settling back onto the debris.

Daenerys looked over what she had just accomplished, savouring the feeling. This city was hers now, she had taken it by storm. Whether Cersei would admit it or not, she was defeated.

Daenerys looked at the Red Keep, smiling to herself. Her eye caught on movement on one of the balconies and she looked over to see a humanoid figure standing there in a black dress. Upon closer observation, it looked like she had shorter hair, orange-ish. It couldn’t be, could it?

Daenerys wasn’t taking any chances. She knew she shouldn’t, the city was hers, but Cersei had stolen her throne. Not only that, but Daenerys remembered speaking with Sansa about her. Cersei had crushed her, not physically but mentally. Her son had abused her, killed off her father, mother and brother. She knew she shouldn’t, but she needed  _ vengeance. _

Drogon shrieked his approval, taking off into the sky and racing toward the keep. She looked down on the people in the streets, feeling hatred for them as well. They’d supported Cersei, supported all the Lannisters that had abused the power of the throne. What better way to show Cersei her defeat than to burn down her entire city?

Daenerys smirked, Drogon dipping down closer to the houses. Her eyes locked onto the street below her, full of guilty people who needed to be punished. She patted Drogon’s shoulder and he released his fire.

The streets tore up beneath his flame, people vanishing within the red. Drogon followed along the street, burning down each and every civilian who dared roam outside their homes. A flash of white in the corner of her eye caught her attention but she ignored it, focusing on destroying those who’d wronged her.

She heard a loud screech from her right and glimpsed a large golden thing hurtling toward her. Her head snapped over to look at it and witnessed Viserion crashing straight into her.

 

Burn them all

 

Sansa sat atop Viserion, watching from above the clouds. The Iron Fleet lay below her, spread out across the Narrow Sea. Daenerys’s army had surrounded the city about an hour ago and there hadn’t been any movement from either side.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Catapults were being manned from the back of the army, a large cluster of them positioned at the shore by the sea. There were little flickers of light as each piece of ammo was lit on fire. As one, they all released.

Most flew toward the wall, crashing through it and taking it down. Others sent theirs out to sea, crashing through boats and creating waves throughout the fleet. A few minutes later, another volley came out toward the sea. Sansa glimpsed Drogon gliding over toward the armies and urged Viserion down. He snarled, folding his wings and plummeting down toward the ships.

They were so focused on the catapults that she was only noticed seconds before Viserion released his flame. Half the ships were already burnt but Sansa made sure each one was out of order, sweeping through the ships and burning each and every one. A spear flew over her shoulder, missing her by about a foot, and Viserion turned on the fleeing ship and burnt it to ashes.

Viserion turned toward the city. More scorpions lined the decks where ships usually docked, all swivelling toward her. A line of spears shot out toward her but Viserion angled up, the javelins missing him. He burnt them before they could get in a second round.

She swept over the wall, scouring whatever parts remained standing for a misplaced scorpion. When she saw none she turned toward the field in front of the castle, where the remains of the Golden Company fought desperately against the Dothraki. Drogon stalked the fields, burning anything with a golden suit. Viserion dropped down to join him. 

Viserion shrieked as he dropped down, jaws opening to scoop up the soldiers. The army was separating, moving every which way and making it hard to have a single target. She hears drogon bellowing and looks back to see Drogon wreaking havoc through the army on the ground, scaring the army away. She turns back toward him, Viserion creating a line of fire between the army and the city. Flames flicker on and off all over his body and he swoops down on a group of soldiers that seem to be giving Drogon a bit of trouble. She gives Dany a grin and takes off once more.

The other side of the castle was practically empty, most soldiers having already fled. Viserion glides back over to where the Northern forces tromp through the city, settling down on a watchtower near them.

She sees Drogon take off, gliding over the city. She sees no bother to it until he releases his fire onto the streets, ripping up the houses from their foundations. Perhaps the Lannister Army is there, she thought. 

A white flag raises over the Red Keep, large enough to be seen from everywhere in the city. Sansa sighed, relieved that it’s finally over and the bloodshed can end.

She looks back over to Drogon, expecting him to be turning back around to join her yet she sees that he hasn’t stopped, his flames are still wrecking the streets. She follows him, wondering. 

She rises up high enough to see that it isn’t the army that Daenerys is burning, it’s the city people. She can’t help but wonder what would make Daenerys feel the need to burn even the innocents and rushes closer. “Daenerys! Stop! They’ve surrendered!” She called out. Daenerys didn’t seem to be paying attention. In a last desperate attempt, she angled Viserion straight toward his brother and prepared for collision.

Viserion slammed into Drogon, sending both dragons spiraling toward the ground. They landed with Viserion on top, Drogon’s mass crashing through the houses and caving in the streets. Drogon held his head off the ground awkwardly, his shoulders raised off the ground to protect Daenerys. Viserion climbed to the side, allowing Drogon to rise. Daenerys looked at her with a look of both confusion and fury.

“Daenerys! Look! They’ve surrendered!” Sansa yelled.

“Why should I care?” She snarled. “Cersei’s done worse to you than she has to I. I would think you would be with me on killing Cersei.”

“Killing Cersei? You aren’t killing Cersei by burning down the entire city full of innocents!”

“Innocents? I think not!” Daenerys gestured to the people around them, all fleeing to  _ somewhere.  _ “They support Cersei! It was their choice, and they chose to help her!”

“They were afraid of her!”

“You told me that they stood there and cheered as your father was executed, cheered for the crowning of a sadist! They’re as much the enemy as Cersei is! Besides,” Daenerys grinned, “what better way to kill her than to show her defeat right in front of her?”

Sansa wanted to argue, she really did, but Daenerys was right. They  _ had  _ cheered, all of them. They didn’t have to resist, but they didn’t have to support either. They’d cheered quite loudly, too. They’d wanted him dead. They’d probably want her dead, too, considering Joffrey had abused her. And Cersei, the citizens were her support. If she saw them destroyed…

“No.” Viserion shuffled in place, crouching low to the ground. “I won’t help you burn the city. What I  _ will  _ do, though, is burn the Keep. If we’re burning anyone, we’re burning Cersei.”

Daenerys grinned. “Deal.”

Viserion roared his approval, pushing off the ground with Drogon on his heels. They turned toward the Red Keep, racing each other over the desolation as they sped toward the looming castle. Looming before, at least. Atop a dragon, the keep looked almost puny, like she could hit it and it would collapse. 

Viserion beat his brother to the keep, wasting no time releasing his fire straight into one of the balconies. Sansa heard their screams as the entire balcony and half the walls around it crumbled, falling down onto the courtyard. Drogon screeched, crashing through one of the high towers with flames spewing from his mouth. Sansa circled the castle with an endless stream of flame hitting the walls, shaking the keep to its core. A certain geyser hit a low tower and send it crashing down onto the town, where people used to be rushing toward the castle but now were fleeing. What had seemed like safety was now the most dangerous attraction.

Viserion rose up higher and scorched the entire ceiling off of the top floor, rubble crumbling into the smoke. The towers caved in on themselves as their bases were destroyed, falling off the castle and caving the entire thing in even more. Anyone in the upper levels of the keep was now surely dead.

Viserion aimed for the side of the castle, shooting fire at it and then turning so that his chest slammed into the weakened walls. Everything above it groaned as it tipped sideways, crashing into the sea and sending up waves big enough to lap at the tops of the cliffs.

Drogon was going lower, burning anyone who dared leave the keep as well as destroying the entire base of the castle. He sent fire straight through the main doors, likely roasting half the floor. Viserion slammed his tail into one of the windows, taking out the pane as well as the surrounding bricks. 

Viserion rose up, one wing grabbing onto the remains of a tower and the other holding onto the rubble a few dozen metres below it. He scrambled for a foothold, climbing on top of the wreckage and settling himself on the highest point he could reach. Sansa looked out at the city, half of it burnt to crisp and smiled. She had her revenge.

Viserion roared as loud as he could muster, announcing his victory to everyone within a five-mile radius. Drogon landed a bit away from them, echoing his brothers call. Sansa gave Daenerys a smile and she grinned in return, patting Drogon’s shoulder. With a loud screech, Viserion took off, sailing back toward the army with Drogon right behind.

  
  


Victory

 

Daenerys stood just outside where the doors of the keep used to be, looking out at the burning city. She felt proud of what she’d done. The city was hers! All the traitors were dead and she held more power than anyone else in the country. The entire continent was hers now. Free for her to do as she liked.

She felt something brush her shoulder and turned to look at her lover. Sansa gave her a smile. “We’ve done it.”

“Indeed we have.”

“Daenerys, you rule the entire kingdom now. Finally, after all these years.”

“Not I,” Daenerys said. “We. You will rule beside me. Both of us are queens now, Sansa. We can do whatever we want. Think of the possibilities.”

Sansa leaned over, pressing a kiss onto the side of her neck. “We could marry. No one would dare stop us.”

“I do wonder what to do about an heir,” Daenerys mused.

“I’m sure some of your advisors will have children. Choose one of them to name as your heir.”

“Perhaps. I do not wish to be the last Targaryen, though.”

“Could we adopt a child? There must be many orphans after both wars.”

“Adopt,” Daenerys muttered. “I like that idea. The child could have us both as parents. We could name it a Targaryen.”

“We’d have to get two. I doubt Arya will ever dare birth a child,” Sansa said. “She’d cut off the man’s dick before he could put it in her.” Both women laughed, moods bright after the taking of the city.

“I think I should like to take a walk around the city,” Sansa said. “It looks quite different now. I must say, I like the improvements.”

“I’d like to find the throne. I’ve never actually seen it.” They shared a quick kiss, parting ways.

 

Death

 

Daenerys stood before the Iron Throne. Something she had longed for half her life, the reason she fought. The legacy her house had left behind for her. It stood cold and proud, surrounded by destruction yet still staying strong. Much like herself. 

Daenerys rested her hand on the hilt of one of the swords, rubbing the frost off of it. Drogon shrieked above her, gliding overtop of the castle and out to the sea. Her eyes followed him and locked onto a dark figure standing in the corner.

Arya Stark tilted her head at her. “Hello, Your Grace.”

“Greetings, Arya Stark.” Daenerys said no more. Arya was somewhat of a mystery to her and she didn’t want to take any chances. She had a dark smirk on her face that made Daenerys feel uneasy.

“You have the Iron Throne now,” she said. “What do you plan on doing with it?”

“I plan on ruling from it, of course.” Daenerys was confused now. Just what was Arya up to? “Liberating those unjustly harmed.”

“You mean like the harm you inflicted on the citizens of King’s Landing yesterday?”

Daenerys bristled. “And who do you think you are to be deciding who’s guilty and who isn’t?”

Arya’s smirk only grew. “Someone who has more sanity than you.”

“Are you calling me mad?” Daenerys snarled. “They deserved to die! Just as you will if you don’t submit!”

“Touchy subject? Too bad.” Arya walked toward her, twirling a dagger in her fingers. “You know, I’ve already killed one queen. Cersei wasn’t very hard to get. Her bodyguard was dead, her brother had abandoned her, and she was all alone. Just like you.”

Daenerys’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t!”

“And why wouldn’t I? Your dragons don’t scare me. I can hide from them easily. Your Unsullied and Dothraki don’t scare me. I can fight better than them.” Arya positioned her dagger to throw. “They may be soldiers, but I’m an assassin.” With that, she let the knife fly.

Daenerys flung herself to the side, the knife hitting her in the shoulder. A second later another hit her in the stomach and finally the heart. Daenerys collapsed, gasping for breath. Arya loomed over her, smiling down at her. “Your punishment for what you’ve done to my sister.”

“I-I didn’t-”

“Of course you did. You corrupted her, Daenerys. You made her just as mad as you are. I can only hope she still understands what family means.” 

Daenerys couldn’t breathe, unable to suck in any more air. She wheezed as she tried to breathe, her chest heaving, but her vision was flickering black. Her back was wet as blood seeped through the fabric, spreading around her like an aura of red. “I hope she kills you,” Daenerys rasped.

She heard Arya chuckle, the sounds becoming fainter. She crouched down next to her, smiling slightly. “Valar morghulis, Daenerys. All men must die.”

 

Defeat

 

Sansa knew something was wrong. Her hip burned with pain and she felt as if her heart was about to stop. She gasped, stumbling backwards. One of the Unsullied soldiers accompanying her caught her arm, helping her stand back up. Her head pounded and the pain was only growing. “You’re dismissed,” Sansa panted to the soldiers, looking up at Drogon rushing toward the Red Keep. She followed after him, mentally calling for Viserion to join his brother before she saw that he was already ahead of her.

Sansa emerged into the Throne Room, immediately noting that the dragons were indeed here. The second thing she noticed was Arya, glaring at the dragons with hatred. Daenerys lay on the ground a few feet behind her, three knives sticking out of her. Arya met her eyes, looking quite pleased with herself.

“What have you done?” Sansa said, her eyes flickering back and forth between Arya and Daenerys. “Why would you do this?”

“She was mad, Sansa,” Arya said. “I refuse to allow another mad queen on the throne, not after Cersei.”

“Mad? She wanted justice. Is that so bad?”

“Justice? She murdered a city, Sansa. That isn’t justice, that’s slaughter.”  
“Arya, those people supported Cersei. They accepted her as queen.”

“Then you show them that she’s better!” Arya snapped. “I’m starting to think you’re just as mad as she was.”

Sansa growled. “I want justice for our family! For father and mother, for Robb and Rickon. Is that mad to you?”

“You think they’d want you burning down the entire King’s Landing?” Arya said, stepping closer. “It isn’t bad to want to give justice, but a massacre is not justice.”

“I can have you burnt to a crisp here and now for your insolence!” Sansa snarled. 

“Exactly why you are mad!” Arya said. “You’d kill your own sister just for a throne?”

“For the throne, no. But for Daenerys? Yes.”

“Daenerys is dead, Sansa. All you have left is what she’s left behind for you: the throne.” Arya sighed, looking over at the two dragons that awaited Sansa’s command. “I loved him quite a lot, you know. I almost don’t want to do this.”

“Do what, Arya?” Sansa insisted, feeling dread creep up her throat. “What are you doing?”

“I guess I’ll have to, though, won’t I?” Arya continued, ignoring her. She pulled a deformed sword off the Iron Throne, looking Sansa right in the eyes. “Know that you did this.” 

Sansa watched in horror as Arya spun toward Viserion, throwing the blade straight into his eye. He shrieked, shaking his head back and forth. “Arya, no!” Sansa screamed as her sister drew two daggers out of her belt. “Please! Leave him alone!”

A dagger flew into Viserion’s mouth, slamming into the back of his throat. Another followed. Viserion gagged, fire leaking out of the corners of his mouth as his entire body shuddered, collapsing onto the ground.

Drogon roared, his eyes filling with fury as flames licked at his scales. Sansa made no move to stop him as he surged forward, opening his jaws to bite down on Arya. She sucked in a breath, refusing to show the pain as Drogon removed the force that had murdered his brother and mother. Sansa stumbled over to Viserion, falling against his head and sobbing. Drogon released a mourning call, snaking his head over to Daenerys to nudge at her limp body. Sansa watched through blurry vision as Drogon carefully scooped her up in his mouth and set her against Viserion. He settled himself next to Viserion and Daenerys and nuzzled Sansa with his head. 

She stroked his snout, feeling the odd texture of his white muzzle. It felt fuzzy and much too cold for a dragon. Sansa felt the tears grow worse as she felt Viserion’s scales losing their head beneath her. She stumbled over to Daenerys, sitting beside her and burying her face into her shoulder. Drogon dropped his head onto her lap, quite heavy but a comforting presence. They’d both lost much.

Too much.

 

Fury

 

Arya had worried about Daenerys being mad?

Little had she known that murdering her would turn Sansa into something worse than Daenerys would’ve been.

Sansa ruled with fury. Nobody dared to oppose her after the first few complaints got their givers burnt alive by Drogon. He and Sansa had bonded with each other, not as closely tied as they had been with their previous companions but a team nonetheless. The throne room had been rebuilt with a large empty space behind the throne and an open ceiling, allowing Drogon to settle behind Sansa as she ruled. Anyone who came to her always lost their courage when they saw Drogon’s giant head resting beside the throne, his mass curled behind it.

Westeros was no longer thriving. Sansa didn’t burn people for no reason like Aerys II had, but the slightest offence set her off. At one point a rebellion had begun in the North, with the Northmen and the Army of the Vale fighting against her. Sansa took Drogon and instead of burning the army she burnt down the entirety of the Eyrie and threatened to burn down the Dreadfort, which had been the base of operations for the North until Winterfell was rebuilt. The army backed down and no rebellion had risen since.

King’s Landing was no longer attracting people like it once was. Even if parts of it had already been rebuilt very few came to live or even trade there, afraid of the queen that lived within. 

Queen Yara had formed a pact with Sansa. The Iron Islands supplied a fleet and fish in return for a pardon for any crimes that had been committed or were to be made, and so far Sansa had stayed true to that. The pillages that the Iron Islands occasionally made on coastal cities went completely ignored. Frankly, she wouldn’t have cared must either way. It was the Westerlands she was stealing from, a land Sansa was entirely happy with allowing to be abused.

Drogon was given free rein despite the fact that he consumed entire farms for meals. He grew bigger by the day until he couldn’t fit into the throne room anymore, and eventually, he became so large that he was half as tall as the keep. He wasn’t stopping anytime soon, either. 

There had been multiple assassination attempts on Sansa as well. The assassins, whenever caught, were always asked which town they hailed from and who told them to kill her. Once, an assassin admitted he had been sent by Dornish lords and Sansa took Drogon down to Sunspear. They levelled the entire city.

All the Westerosi had lost hope in killing her. The only hope they had was that she would die of natural causes, preferably younger, but Sansa was still young. She would rule for decades to come.

Hope was something that wasn’t found often anymore.

Not with Sansa Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely not sorry about this
> 
> I have another Daensa book up now called 'There is Death in Them at the End.' Check it out for more of Sansa and Dany!

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I got something wrong, guess what: I don't give a fuck.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed!


End file.
